


Absolution

by ADarlingWrites



Series: through river acheron [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Ghouls, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love Triangles, Medical Jargon, Medical Procedures, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Canon Compliant, POV First Person, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Psychological Trauma, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 70,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADarlingWrites/pseuds/ADarlingWrites
Summary: noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishmentThe Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, Charon is one of the few who saw her for who she is.She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.cover art|inspiration playlist (spotify)|tumblr mirror
Relationships: Butch DeLoria/Female Lone Wanderer, Butch DeLoria/Lone Wanderer, Charon (Fallout)/Female Lone Wanderer, Charon (Fallout)/Lone Wanderer, Madison Li & Female Lone Wanderer
Series: through river acheron [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915063
Comments: 82
Kudos: 111





	1. Prologue I

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, readers!
> 
> Absolution is a work that regularly deals with themes of abuse, violence, non-con, trauma, and other uncomfortable topics. All of the chapters with possible triggering content are tagged with the appropriate warnings at the start of the chapter, and only consensual sexual scenes will be depicted explicitly. If you wish to have something tagged, please leave a comment, or send an ask to my [tumblr](adarlingwrites.tumblr.com).
> 
> If you feel that reading this fic might re-traumatize you, please refrain from reading it. Your well-being comes first. Otherwise, grab some snacks and get comfortable because this is going to be a long ride!

September 1, 2277.

Standing in my corner, I see that bastard Ahzrukhal selling jet under the table again. It was always like this for a long fucking time; I take on my near-perpetual shift as Ninth Circle’s bouncer, customers roll in, and that ass gets to milk the caps out of their misery. One of the drunks lumber towards me and I give them the same damn response every time: Talk to Ahzrukhal.

That sleazeball never liked me talking to the customers. In fact, he ordered me to always direct the sorry fucks to him and not to say a word any further. Ahzrukhal knows how much animosity I hold for him, and despite my absolute loyalty to him for being the holder of my contract, the mere suggestion of outside influence on me terrifies him. Paranoid little rat, and he is right to be.

While handling the drunk, I almost didn’t hear it, but the door to the bar opened, and I saw a face that hasn’t been here before. That night, I didn’t know how much my life would change.

The first time she arrived in the Ninth Circle, I didn’t know what to think of her. She tried to keep her head down. Emphasis on _tried_. The moment she walked in, the kid got the attention of every ghoul in that damn place. A smoothskin’s a rare sight in Underworld. A Vault Dweller? Even rarer.

Trying to keep stealthy while wearing that awful bright blue suit and a red cap is about as useful as cologne on a ghoul. It was almost amusing to watch her keep herself small and unassuming, head low and walking quietly.

She tried avoiding other people, only to run into me.

“Oh!”

I have no illusions about what I look like; I almost anticipated a look of horror on her face. Being a ghoul made us look like walking corpses. Half of my face doesn't even have skin anymore; I can’t remember if it fell off on its own or it was flayed off. Doesn’t help that I stand almost a foot and a half taller than her. At that point I expected the Vaultie to scream and run back to whatever hole she crawled out of.

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” A smoothskin apologizing to a ghoul. That’s new.

Unlike the other smoothskins I had the misfortune of running into, she didn’t scream, recoil in disgust, or foolishly tried to hurt me. Vaultie just gives me a surprised, curious look.

With her standing stiff as a telephone pole, I manage to take a good long look. Too clean. Too well-fed. Too _innocent_. It’s like someone walked right out of a pre-war Vault-tec billboard. Dark, upturned eyes hide behind her glasses, and her hair was the darkest shade of black I’ve ever seen. Pale from the lack of sun exposure, and probably as smooth as a newborn’s, the skin on her cheeks has a pale pink tinge to it.

I’d be lying if I said that a decrepit part of my mind didn’t imagine what she felt like.

“Are you-”

“No. Talk to Ahzrukhal.”

Her face falls. “I just-”

I square my shoulders and cross my arms, taking a menacing step to shut the persistent kid up.

“Talk. To. Ahzrukhal.”

That was enough to get her to back off.

“Understood. Have a nice day,” she almost whispers, turning her back to me so she can sit on one of the barstools. She didn’t have to be told a third time.

My employer grabs a bottle of scotch from the shelves and serves it with ice in a shot glass, setting it in front of the vault kid. I can’t put my finger on it, but the blue of her jumpsuit and the big, yellow 101 on her back feels familiar. My brain itches, a dull pressure behind my eyes building up. I look away.

I couldn’t quite hear her conversation with that bastard, but I know I heard my name. Then, I saw it.

The smile that ruined me.

As soon as she made sure I saw it, and committed it to my memory, she went back to drinking that watered-down piss Ahzrukhal served her. At the moment, I thought I would be foolish to think anything of it.

She’s just a naive little girl, too friendly for a place like this. This would be the first and last time I’ll see her.

The wasteland would claim her, just like it did countless others.


	2. Prologue II

January 28, 2278.

I regret having that thought.

I loathe myself for ever having that thought.

It happened in a blur. The two of us were powering through Enclave troops to reach the memorial, accompanied by the blonde in power armor while the rest of those Brotherhood grunts fought the war outside with that damned 50-foot tin can. Soldiers fell like bloatflies as my mistress, _no,_ my partner obliterated them with her Gauss rifle. They never stood a chance, not when they can’t see her.

Scouting ahead, the blonde and I opened fire when we arrived in the memorial, while she remained crouched as she went in, the only thing giving her away is the silver-white outline of her stealth field that’s only visible when she moves. With the bastards’ attention on us, they didn’t anticipate her. We tore through their ranks with ease.

My partner was more than happy to send the Enclave colonel flying backwards when we reached the rotunda. As the Brotherhood soldier and I fought waves of Enclave soldiers, the PA crackled to life, and my partner ran over, the voice of that Rivet City scientist Dr. Li frantic through the static.

Damn purifier needs to be turned on or the entire facility could explode. Worse, the chamber is heavily irradiated, so whoever goes in isn’t going back alive.

She gave me a look. I feared for the worst.

“No. Don’t you fucking dare,” I seethe, large hands holding her sides, squeezing, desperate to make her stay.

“I have to do it.”

“No! After everything, this is how you let it end? I’ll go in. I’m immune. Give me the damn code,” I rasped, searching for affirmation in her dark eyes. The heart I didn’t know still existed in my chest sank as she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Charon.”

“I won’t let you. Even if we already burned my contract, I’ll still protect you. Let me protect you. _Please_.”

Soft hands cup my rough face, and even softer lips press against my ruined mouth.

My eyes are wide as saucers, but soon, they drifted shut. For a moment, everything seems right. I sank into her kiss, hands flying to her back to press her small, warm body against mine. Her feet hovering off the ground as I engulfed her, I held her so tight I could feel her pounding heart through her armor, and mine.

I claimed her lips with a hunger, like she was fucking air and I needed her to breathe.

I don’t want to let go.

“I’ll find you,” she chokes, breaking the kiss with tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. I can see my reflection on her glasses, my forlorn expression, and she pushes me away.

The disgusted glare of the Brotherhood soldier behind me bored into my skull, but I paid it no heed. Fuck her, and fuck the Brotherhood, for being willing to send an innocent soul to her death so they wouldn’t have to send one of their own. Fuck them for relying on a _teenager_ to clean up the Wasteland while they hound all the glory for themselves. Fuck them hard for using her. They can go to hell.

“Sarah, restrain him,” she barks at the blonde, and she turns her back on me.

Thrashing like an animal caught in a trap, I reached for her, but she had already slipped away, running inside the irradiated chamber without looking back. The airlock hisses into place and the Brotherhood bitch lets me go, watching as I helplessly pounded against the reinforced glass.

Percy didn’t waste any time punching in the code on the terminal, the purifier roaring to life and as the lethal radiation seeped through her bones, she crawled, _fucking crawled_ , to press her hand against the glass, where my face is. Skin that used to be pale and rosy turned a scorched pink and blood is leaking from her nose. But she was smiling.

It was the smile that ruined me.

The sight drove me mad.

I remember howling like a damned beast as I used the butt of my shotgun to smash the glass. Light and heat filled the room. I can barely hear the Brotherhood soldier screaming at me to cease.

I’m getting her out.


	3. I

September 5, 2277.

That night was the night I learned her name.

Business was slow, with only a few customers dragging their feet in. Patchwork stumbles in and tries to get yet another drink. Ahzrukhal wasn’t amused in the slightest, not at all. Patchwork’s tab already exceeded what he deemed acceptable. So, he turned to me.

“Charon?”

“Yes.”

“Teach our friend Patchwork here a lesson.”

“As you command.”

The poor bastard tried to backpedal away when I advanced on him and grabbed him by the collar. I dragged him out the door, and without warning, threw him over the balcony. The ghouls beneath steered clear, knowing better than to intervene. As I went down the stairs to torment him further, he tried screaming for help, but nobody came. This is our normal.

As I walked over to break his fingers, a shout rang from Tulip’s shop. The voice isn’t a ghoul’s.

“ _Whoa, what the hell?!_ ”

It’s Vaultie, holding a baseball bat and running towards us. The kid had stuck a few bits of armor over that stupid bright blue jumpsuit and a rusty assault rifle lie holstered on her back. She still hasn't discarded the bright red cap, though, and her dark hair was tied in a loose bun. Still a combat hazard.

“Smoothskin,” Tulip rasps, running after her. “Don’t. It’s better you stay out of it.”

She whirls to the ghoulette. “Why would I? You’re telling me you guys just let people get beaten up in the open around here?”

“Keep your voice down, Percy,” Tulip warns, placing a rotting hand on Vaultie’s forearm, and Vaultie didn’t flinch when the ghoulette touched her.

So, her name is Percy. Sounds right for a rough little tomboy like her, but I have no reason to say that out loud. I stayed silent.

“Charon doesn’t act on his own accord. He’s under Ahzrukhal’s orders.”

The kid brushes Tulip off, but the action is without malice or disgust. I was in the middle of pulling Patchwork’s middle finger off when she barged over. “Hey. What did he do to deserve that?”

“Not your business,” I grunted, dropping the finger to the ground. “Talk to Ahzrukhal.”

“Hhhrkn- I asked for ‘nother drink but I forgot I didn’t pay my tab,” Patchwork gurgles, limply hanging as my free hand held his arm up.

“All that for a bar tab?” Percy remarks, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the bat harder. “How much does he owe?”

“Ask Ahzrukhal.”

That bleeding heart of hers will get her killed one day, but I felt some relief as she ran up the stairs and into the Ninth Circle. I stopped beating up the sorry drunk and hauled him back up to the bar. Inside, Percy had her palms pressed against the bartop. Ahzrukhal has a smug look plastered on his face as he counts caps.

“Well ma’am, it’s certainly enough to cover Patchwork’s tab here, yes.”

Vaultie turns her back from the bastard and looks at Patchwork, then to me. “You heard him. I’ll take him to Doc Barrows.”

“Oh, and Charon?” Ahzrukhal rasped with that grin that I wanted to punch off of his damn face.

“Yes?”

“Give Patchwork a parting jab.”

"Very well."

I can’t disobey. My fist connected with the drunk’s face and the only satisfaction I can get out of it is from imagining it was Ahzrukhal’s. Percy, quick on her feet, caught him before his body could hit the floor, setting him on one of the chairs.

“You’re quite an ass, Mister Ahzrukhal, you know that?” The glare she was giving him made my fingers itch for my shotgun out of reflex. Ahzrukhal is my contract holder, so if Vaultie here rips his throat out with her teeth like the provoked animal that she looked like at the moment, I’d be forced to shoot her down.

“Miss, let me make some things clear here,” Ahzrukhal starts, holding a shiny cap against the light. “This is my bar, and I will do as I please to keep my establishment free from riffraff. Patchwork here is one of them, and I will utilize Charon if necessary to remind him that I do not tolerate such things. Perhaps this will serve as a lesson the next time he tries to drink without pay.”

The vaultie only scoffed in response and hauled the bleeding ghoul to his feet and supported him with one shoulder. How she could not gag after breathing in the combined smell of rot, blood, and alcohol from Patchwork is beyond me.

“Utilize? You make him sound like a… like a machine,” she mutters in disbelief. She doesn’t even flinch when Patchwork bleeds on her relatively clean jumpsuit; her eyes were trained on my employer.

“We are not having this conversation about Charon again, Miss.”

“Whatever. You’ll have your day of reckoning.”

Those words sounded like fucking music to my ears. _Yes, he will_ , I thought to myself. Vaultie has guts, I’ll give her that.

It almost makes me want to like her.

As she left, I returned to my usual corner. “Feisty girl,” Ahzrukhal pipes up as he neatly lines up his caps in the cash register. “You know, Charon, that girl has been rooting around for information on how to obtain your contract.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

September 14, 2277.

Within the span of two weeks, Percy is becoming a regular sight in Underworld. I heard the patrons talking about how she would come to trade with Tulip with the items she scavenged from the Wasteland. How she can find all those supplies is a mystery. Maybe she’s just born lucky. At night, she spends an hour in the Ninth Circle despite her dislike for Ahzrukhal, smiles and waves at me as she leaves, but I don’t acknowledge her, and the little frown she makes when I ignore her tells me about her dismay.

Tonight, she walks in the Ninth Circle with new gear and a bag of caps. She finally got rid of that ridiculous blue jumpsuit and the red cap, switching to a dark, form-fitting armor. I can’t put my finger on it, but my brain itches further the more I look at her. Then I see it, the red star behind her nape against the black.

It stirs something in my decrepit mind.

_Gunfire, smoke, powder. Snow. A foreign language I can’t understand-_

A bark from Ahzrukhal snapped me out of my thoughts.

“ _Charon_. Get your thumb of out your ass. I said, accompany Miss 101 out of Underworld.”

Percy is bristling at him, glasses sliding to the tip of her nose. “You said a thousand caps, you rat bastard.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, Charon’s contract is far more valuable to me than a thousand caps. Unless, you want to reconsider the offer I gave you previously?” the fucker rasped, mockery dripping from his voice.

“Screw you,” Percy spits at him, gathering her caps. She walks away, shoulders tense as I follow her out of the bar.

“No need to throw me over the balcony, big guy. I’m going,” she snaps at me. _Big guy._ That was the first time she used that nickname.

With her back turned on me, I follow the curve of her spine down to her legs with my eyes and regret doing so. The previous itch I had in my brain when I see her armor-clad body is replaced with something more primal. Fuck, how old is this kid? If there was any doubt on whether I was going to burn in hell, it’s gone.

Then, the conditioning kicks in, and I tear my eyes away from her. No time for thinking. No time for imagining. _Follow your orders_.

Flailing and cursing when I carried her over my shoulder, she uselessly beat my back with her fists as I started carrying her out of the city. The onlookers knew better than to get involved, as usual. Ironic, how she intervened on behalf the well-being of one of Underworld’s citizens, yet they didn’t grant her the same courtesy. Later, I’d learn that this is just the beginning of her tendency to get into one-sided dealings, where everyone else just takes from her.

“Hey! Get your hands off me, my legs still fucking work,” she growls, trying to break free from my grip.

“Can’t you hear me?” she asks again as we are halfway through the concourse. “Oh, right. Ahzrukhal doesn’t like you talking to us strangers. Figures.” She stopped beating my back and just pressed her elbow against my shoulder and propped her face up with her hand. From an outsider’s point of view, we probably looked amusing.

Willow, the city sentry, lets out a tut when I tossed Percy out the door like a ragdoll, and she landed on her ass.

“Pissed Ahzrukhal off, tourist?”

“ _Yep._ I’ll be back,” Percy hisses, rubbing the sore spot on her body. Again, I regret looking. I should’ve just slammed the door right there. “I just need another thousand freakin’ caps.”

“Good luck with that,” Willow chuckles, and resumes her patrol.

With Vaultie gone, the usual peace and quiet came back, save for the crackle of the radio on Ahzrukhal’s bartop. The usual music ends, and a news broadcast comes in.

“ _Men and ladies, boys and girls, prepare to be astounded, bedazzled, and otherwise stupefied! I am Three Dog, your master of ceremonies! Seems we've got - dadadadada - a bit of news, Just listen to this!_ ”

Just great. What settlement got fucked over by raiders now?

“ _Remember that kid from Vault 101? Apparently, she ran into some trouble with what little law they had in Megaton. The gal beat the proprietor of the local saloon, Colin Moriarty, to death, with a baseball bat. Whaaat?! But wasn’t this the same gal who deep-sixed the live atomic bomb in the center of town out of the kindness of her heart? Why did she murder one of the town’s residents? Well, here’s the catch! When town sheriff Lucas Simms came to apprehend her, the bar employees came to Miss 101’s defense and claimed she was protecting one of them from the owner’s brutal beating. Hey, you stepped in when you thought it was necessary, 101. Some folks would rather turn their heads away at the sight of injustice, but you didn’t. No judgment here. And now, for some music._ ”

_Huh._

For the next few hours, images of her danced behind my eyes. I imagined Percy executing Ahzrukhal with a baseball bat, just like she did to that other bar owner in the news. Me putting a boot print on his face and Percy smashing his shelf of Centaur piss while the worm whined. Unloading shotgun shells into Ahzrukhal’s ugly mug as Percy poured alcohol all over the countertop and setting it on fire. All of it involves ending Ahzrukhal in a variety of satisfying ways with the vaultie at my side. It’s a dangerous pastime. I should not feel any attachment to anyone but my employer. The contract holder has my absolute loyalty, but she’s not that person.

I _really_ want to like her.

September 16, 2277.

When she returned two days later with a thousand more caps, I decided that I do.

Percy, brimming with enthusiasm, walked over to my corner, and before I could dismiss her, she held out my contract, my paper soul, right in front of my eyes. Then, she speaks.

“Slow down, big guy,” she chuckled, smiling. _That damn smile again._ “I have good news. I’m your new employer.”

It was good fucking news indeed.

“You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal? So, I am no longer in his service. That is good to know,” I tell her, barely containing the relief in my voice.

“Please, wait here. I must take care of something.” A knowing smile spreads across my new employer’s lips as I whip out my shotgun.

“Ahzrukhal, I was told that I was no longer in your service,” I rasp, a pleasant sensation blooming in my chest.

“That’s right, Charon. Have you come to say goodbye?”

There it is again, the fucking mocking tone in his voice. Knowing how much he pissed Percy off, he’s probably planning something, the fucking cheat. My new employer would probably turn up dead and face first in the dirt as soon as I stopped watching her. I can’t let that happen.

“Yes.”

Two blows to the head. I unloaded two shells on that asshole, one to kill him, and one out of spite. It felt fantastic. My hands were still shaking when I returned my shotgun to its holster.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Percy saunters over, eyes wide, and takes in all the carnage before her. She whistled and pats my arm almost too affectionately.

“Wow. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”


	4. II

February 3, 2278.

Some of the Brotherhood came over to gawk again. A simple growl made them back off, but it doesn’t stop them from throwing an insult about my skin. Not that it fazes me. I must say, I don’t care. Percy though? If she were awake right now, she would’ve mauled those tin cans.

The doctors put Percy in an induced coma. One of the scribes said that being awake for her now would be painful for her.

It’s been six days since the purifier, and I remember an explosion from inside the chamber knocking me back, the glass flying everywhere. When I came to, I saw her lying there, her armor damaged and glasses shattered from the impact, some of the glass piercing her skin. I hauled her out of there. Didn’t let anyone near her, not even Dr. Li. I must’ve looked like a yao guai refusing to let go of their kill to these Brotherhood bigots.

There are holes in my memory, but I remember seeing blood on the floor when they tried to wrench her away from my grasp. If the blood belonged to me, or to one of the tin cans, I can’t recall. My ears were ringing, but I know someone was shouting, telling the power-armored assholes to give me a wide berth.

It wasn’t until Li told me that my partner would probably die if I didn’t let them administer medical attention that I reluctantly laid her body down on a gurney. I stayed by Percy’s side as they wheeled her to the emergency room. The scribes told me to get lost, but a cock of my shotgun made them cease their pestering.

As they hooked her onto life support, I sat down at the ground near the foot of the bed. I barely moved an inch since. The doctors made blood transfusions, pumped her with RadAway, injected a cocktail of chems to keep her sedated, anything to keep her alive.

The worst part was the seizures. I don’t think I can burn those memories away, watching my partner’s body convulse and thrash against the bed.

From time to time, Dr. Li and a few of the scribes who weren’t bigots would send me food and water as they checked on Percy’s condition. With her father dead, there was no next of kin, but they knew how I stuck by her side, they shared the prognosis with me. They mentioned some terms like leukopenia, hypotension, and other terms I couldn’t understand.

All I know is she’s unwell and I can’t leave her.

Tonight, Li approached me and brought some news. Percy is stable, for now. To my surprise, she sat on the floor beside me, and pressed her hands against her face before letting out a nervous sob.

“I barely got to know her and she could be gone anytime. And to think I tried to push her away. God. Not like this...”

I let her continue mumbling.

“I should have known better than to let her in. I shouldn’t have let myself care for her. But that girl is persistent, isn’t she?”

That, I can agree with. Percy wormed her way into my heart, too.

“You,” she spoke. I look in her direction, but she’s looking straight ahead, her thousand-yard stare familiar. “You got her out of that chamber in the nick of time. A few more seconds inside and she… she could’ve ended up like James.”

I couldn’t stop myself from grimacing.

December 26, 2277.

I was watching Percy’s back as she took care of the intake pipes when the Enclave’s vertibirds came flying in.

“Charon. I have a bad feeling about this,” I remember her saying.

The image of the black machines landing near the memorial stirred a feeling of dread. A pressure on my neck choked me despite the lack of anything constricting it. Before I knew it, the dull pressure in the back of my eyes made me pull what’s little left of my hair. My chest hurt like a bitch and it felt like my rib cage was going to explode.

Percy was quick to notice my distress.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” she cooed in a soothing manner, placing my ruined hands against her soft cheeks to stop me from hurting myself. “Breathe, Charon. Focus on me,” she continues, squeezing my hands. She leads me through the grate to remove me from the situation and turns on her Pip-Boy light.

“Remember what we did in Megaton? Can we do that?” she asks me; it wasn’t a command. “Yes,” I manage to rasp out. My head was spinning, but I focused on her voice to stop myself from blacking out. I won’t let myself black out. _She’ll need me_.

“Five things you can see?” she starts, and I comply, trying to speak though it feels like I’m choking on mole rat shit. “I see the metal gate. My hands. My feet. The Pip-Boy light. You.”

“Keep going,” she encouraged me, digging inside her pack. “Four things you can touch.”

“I feel the fabric of my shirt,” I continue, sweating hands palming at myself. “I can feel my shotgun,” I rasp, grasping at the barrel. “Warm, right? Like how you like it?” Percy breathes, and I see that she found a bubble gum wrapper and placed it in my palm, before gently closing her hands around my fist. “Yes. I can feel the bubblegum wrapper,” I continue. “I can feel your skin,” I say at last.

“Three things you can smell.”

Her hands stayed on mine. I unclenched my fists, held them, delicate against mine, and pressed them against my ruined cheeks. Percy draws a little closer, her eyes searching mine.

“I think I can manage now,” I exhale, lucid once more.

“Are you sure?”

“I am certain.”

“What triggered it?” she asks me, and I let go of her hands to fetch my shotgun.

“Vertibirds. Enclave. Your father might be in danger.”

Panic replaces the questioning look in her eyes. “We have to help dad.”

We were running back when one of the Enclave soldiers fired plasma rounds at us. I manage to shield my mistress from the onslaught and the hot plasma burns through my armor, exposing my arm. Taking the opportunity, Percy crouches, disappears, and takes out one of the soldiers with her Gauss rifle. I covered her while the panicking soldiers searched for her. We managed to barrel our way through a platoon, and I can hear her sigh of relief when we reached the door to the rotunda.

It was too late when we arrived.

A man who introduced himself as Colonel Autumn was inside the purifier, along with more soldiers in power armor. James was inside, with another scientist in their team. My mistress runs up to Dr. Li, who watches with wary eyes from the other side of the glass.

A shot rang throughout the rotunda. Autumn killed the other scientist.

With no hesitation, Percy and I ran to the entrance of the purifier. She bangs against the glass, calling to her father.

“Dad! Let me in,” she pleads, begs, but her father doesn’t acknowledge her. Gun still pointed at his head, James walked over to the control panel, pressed a few buttons, and then all hell broke loose.

She tried her damn best to pry the blast door open when James locked himself in with the Enclave colonel and radiation started to seep out of the damn chamber. He let his daughter watch as he died a slow and painful death from the radiation, just so she could get away.

She pounded her small fists and threw her shoulder against the glass, but it didn’t budge.

The wild, desperate expression etched on her face will haunt me.

Is that how I looked like when I pounded against the glass?

_Was I that afraid to lose her?_

February 4, 2278

I was shaken back to reality when the doctor spoke up once more.

“Look, I don’t know about the nature of your relationship with Persephone. I will not pry, and it is not my place to judge, especially after you saved her life. I- I thank you.”

I grunted at her in acknowledgment, and watched as she stood up to glance at Percy one last time.

“Excuse me, I need a small break,” she almost rasps, fatigue evident in her voice, and she shuffles out the door.

Time passed for I don’t know how long, and with a groan, I stood from my usual place at the foot of Percy’s bed and checked the time on her Pip-Boy. She taught me how to operate it in case she gets incapacitated. 00:03. Already past midnight. My legs fell asleep sitting all day, so I walked around in the room. As I pass by the door, I can hear voices on the other side.

“Patient Persephone Zhou’s test results are abnormal,” I hear a scribe say. “Cellular regeneration is remarkable despite lethal radiation exposure. _No_ …”

I press my ear hole against the door upon hearing my partner’s name. I didn’t dare make a single sound.

“She’s being healed by it.”

“Healed? Do you think she’s undergoing… _eugh_ , ghoulification?” one of them says with disgust.

My breath quickens. I wouldn’t wish this… this condition on anyone I cared for. Especially Percy. Not Percy. Rage replaces my anxiousness at the tone of one of the bigots. It has become clear to me that despite all the things my partner did for the Brotherhood, the moment she turns into a walking corpse like me, they’ll be more than happy to dispose of her. I wanted to send the door flying open and strangle the bastards.

But I only kept listening.

“It’s too early to tell. Ghoulification can take years, but at the dose she was exposed to, if it happens, it should be instantaneous. There is no tissue necrosis, and her initial burns are almost healed. We can’t rule it out yet, but there are no symptoms.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“We need to acquire tissue samples. Run tests.”

Footsteps. They’re getting louder. I stop leaning on the door to plant myself firmly on the ground I stand on. The doors swing open, and the scribes almost jump out of their skins when they see me.

“Step aside, ghoul,” one of them spits. The small tremor his hands made while holding the clipboard tells me he’s scared shitless.

“ _No._ ”

I take one step towards these bastards and they’re already shouting for backup from the tin cans. Two arrived, but I stood my ground, shotgun in my hands.

“Let the scribes in, zombie,” one of the armored soldiers hissed, pointing her laser rifle at me. “We won’t ask again.”

“What is going on here?” Dr. Li. I lower my shotgun. She’s just in time. I wouldn’t have hesitated to open fire if she didn’t come.

“We’re just here for nightly rounds on the patient-” one of them starts, but Dr. Li waves her hand, dismissing them.

“I am responsible for the well-being of Miss Zhou. The Brotherhood only lent you scribes to assist me, and I don’t need assistance right now. Now please, stop disturbing my patient,” she snaps, the authority in her voice making the haughty scribes back off. I couldn’t help the small, upward tug at the corner of my mouth. Serves you bastards right.

“Call me on the intercom if they pester you again. I need to take Persephone’s blood pressure.”

“They said something about taking samples from her,” I spoke up, and the doctor’s head whips towards my direction.

“Damn them,” she mutters. “Thank you for telling me. Do _not_ , under any circumstances, let them.”

One of my eyebrows cock at the doctor’s orders. “Is there anything I should know?”

Dr. Li stops, sighs, and turns to face me. “With James gone, I know she has no one else but you. I’d prefer if Persephone is lucid and away from this place if I was to breach this topic. Please, you have to understand. It’s unsafe here.”

I nodded at her, and she exhales slowly, unwrapping a pack of bandages to tend to what little burns Percy has left on her.

As I watch the doctor tend to Percy, her words play over and over in my head.

“ _She has no one else but you._ ”


	5. III

September 17, 2277.

From her reaction to Ahzrukhal’s murder alone, I had a hunch that she’s different from my previous employers.

“I assume Ahzrukhal wasn’t very high on your list of favorite people?” my new employer comments, eyes still fixated on the stump where Ahzrukhal’s head used to be.

“Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard. As long as he held my contract, I was honor bound to do as he commanded. Now, you are now my employer, which freed me to rid the world of that disgusting rat,” I tell her, to which she smirked. “And now, for good or ill, I serve you.”

“You won’t have to throw drunks over the balcony or make young women land on their asses without good reason, I promise you that.”

In secret, I held on to that promise.

Half past midnight, my new mistress and I sit at one of the tables in the Ninth Circle while Ahzrukhal’s body starts catching flies. She skims through my contract, and tucks it away under her Pip-Boy glove. Onlookers were staring, but no one dared approach me, the tall, intimidating ghoul with a shotgun, and the smoothskin girl with a Gauss rifle who holds my leash.

“Right! First order of business. My name is Percy Zhou,” she introduces herself, and extends a small, gloved hand. I stare at it at the moment, trying to read any discomfort or disgust on my mistress’ face, and when she raises an eyebrow, I grasp it, and she gives my hand a shake. I couldn’t help but notice how large my hands are in contrast to hers. I let go as soon as I could; it wasn’t unpleasant. Not a lot of employers would go out of their way to touch me, and I am not used to it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“If conversation is what you wish, then I shall provide it.”

“ _So formal…_ ” she chuckles. “So, is your name really pronounced ‘Sh’aron, or is it ‘Kh’aron, like in those old mythology books?”

No one has pronounced my name like that in quite the long time. When a barely literate raider boss acquired my contract years ago, he started to pronounce my name as ‘Sh’aron out of mockery. It stuck. At my new mistress’ pronunciation of my name, however, my brain is starting to itch again, but the need to respond to her holds me back. “You can call me whatever you prefer, mistress.”

“Don’t call me mistress, please.”

 _Please_. A word employers never use. Coming out of her mouth, it felt strange.

“Anyway, if I start calling you Mr. Dreamboat, you wouldn’t object?”

I snort, despite myself. The reaction elicited a giggle from my new mistress and she waves her hand. My previous employers, Ahzrukhal included, laughed _at_ me, not _with_ me. “Ah, so you _have_ a sense of humor,” she laughs, pushing her glasses into her face. “I’m kidding, don’t worry.”

“ _Charming._ ” It came out of my mouth dry and flat.

“I’ll start calling you ‘Kh’aron, then.”

Percy starts digging in her pack and produces two sticks of bubblegum. She unwraps and starts chewing on one of them, and offers one to me. I took it partly to stay in her good graces, and partly because I have been eating nothing but disgusting mole rat meat for quite some time, courtesy of my previous employer, of course. The last time I had sugar... I still had skin.

“Charon,” my mistress calls my attention. She is showing me a map on her Pip Boy.

“This,” she starts, pointing to a waypoint on the map, “is the Museum of Technology. It’s right across us, but getting there isn’t a walk in the park. Unlike ghouls, Super Mutants don’t ignore humans out in the open.” I nod in response.

“Which is why I wore my sneaking suit for the occasion. I don’t want to engage in a direct gunfight. It’s too dark, and my eyes suck. Are you any good at stealth?”

“I am proficient,” I respond.

“Perfect. Anything else that you’re good at that we can use to our advantage?”

“Aside from firearms, I am trained in handling explosives.”

“Great,” she exclaims, and her small hand disappears into her pack once more. She hands me three frag grenades. “I was planning to sell these to Tulip. You can hold on to them.”

I nod, storing the grenades away. “Also, I’d like you to provide me cover fire in case we get detected and this bad boy fails to take down the muties,” she adds, motioning to her Gauss rifle, and I nod. _How did a kid like her get her hands on a powerful weapon anyway?_

She then starts briefing me on our objective. A satellite dish. Seems simple enough.

When she started a damn treasure hunt in the museum, however, things got more interesting than I previously anticipated. Percy picks off the mutants with her rifle, and scouts forward. She sees the museum terminals and decides to tinker with them. The next thing I knew, I was tailing her around while she hunted for more terminals. My mistress, deep in concentration, stares at numbers at a terminal, muttering something about prime numbers as the green glow reflects on her glasses. At the moment, I was annoyed, but when we found a key in the safe, I was astounded to see a missile launcher inside the gun locker it unlocks. In poor condition, but it’s a fucking missile launcher nonetheless.

At that point, I stopped questioning myself how my mistress can get her hands on valuable loot. She’s thorough. I respect that.

As soon as we finished looting, we proceeded with the mission as normal. We acquired the dish, and what was supposed to be a simple task of locating the Washington Monument to replace the old one turned out more complicated when one of the big green bastards spotted us when the missile launcher rustled against the satellite dish.

“Here we go,” Percy yells, rolling behind a barricade. “I’ll snipe. Cover me.”

One. Two. Three. The mutants start falling. One with a sledgehammer is heading to her blind spot and I finished that one with my shotgun. Four. As my mistress was reloading, one of the mutants threw a grenade to draw us out. Faster than I can think, my reflexes kicked in, and I tackled my mistress, covering her body.

I can barely hear my name as my ears rang, but I can clearly hear the distress in my mistress’ voice. She slips from underneath me and retrieves her rifle while I lie face first in the dirt.

Five. The last mutant fell. I got on my hands and knees and I felt a small hand grasp my bicep, forcing me to sit.

“Shit. Shit. Charon, are you okay?”

I nod. “Are you injured?” I ask her back.

“Shit, big guy, don’t worry about me, you’re the one who’s bleeding” she curses, looking at my back. “You have shrapnel all over you.”

“Your safety takes priority. I can withstand the pain.”

“Bullshit. Once we arrive at the monument, I’m patching you up first before we do anything else,” she insisted, pulling me up and wrapping an arm around my waist as we walked all the way to the monument.

“That is not necessary.”

She ignored me.

As we arrived, the Brotherhood soldier standing at the gate almost opened fire at me if it wasn’t for Percy waving her arms. Percy sets me down near the radio, and starts rummaging her pack for medical supplies, yelling at any gawkers to give her and her patient some privacy.

“This is not necessary, mistress,” I tell her, and she rolls her eyes at me.

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘mistress?’”

“I apologize. I will not call you mistress again, ma’am.”

Percy groaned, throwing her hands up in the air. “Hey. Stop. I’m not used to being addressed as a superior, and it’s making me uncomfortable,” she starts, taking a bottle of antiseptic and giving it a good shake. Taking off her gloves, she splashes them all over her hands.

“I’m asking you to adjust to my methods. In this partnership, we are equals. Got it?”

“The contract dictates that we are not.”

Percy pauses. “It does?”

“Yes.”

My mistress lets out an exasperated groan. “Jesus, dad is right. I need to read contracts before agreeing to them…” she mumbles to herself. “Let’s sort it out later. Take your shirt off.”

Complying, I shed my shoulder pads and stripped from the waist up. My back is revealed to her, along with all the scars, peeling skin, and my protruding spine. I can feel Percy’s gaze as she kneeled behind me. She wasn’t making any movement, or talking.

“Is there something wrong?”

Soft fingers press on old scars, tracing an old whip mark. “ _Who did this to you?_ ”

Her voice came out as a cracked whisper. Tension started to boil in my head. “If my mistress wishes to find out, I will do my best to recall.”

“You don’t- you don’t remember?”

“No.”

“I won’t press any further. My mistake,” she whispers, apologetic, and she finally moves again. “Hold still, big guy.”

Through clenched teeth, I let out a grunt when she started to pull the bits of shrapnel from my back. “Some of these wounds need stitches. We have no anaesthetic, sorry. Tell me if the pain is too much.”

“How I feel is irrelevant.”

“How you feel concerns me,” she insists. “You said that my safety takes priority, yes?”

“...yes.”

“Then,” she continues, plunging the needle in my ruined skin. “How can you focus on protecting me if you are injured? Or ill? Or in pain?”

“I am trained to withstand great injury and pain. My main objective is ensuring your protection regardless of my physical condition,” I grit through my teeth, and exhaling in relief when I feel her sew the wound shut. “And you did. I’m just returning the favor. Just let me fuss over you, big guy. It won’t hurt either of us,” she argues, her breath warm against my nape, and I hoped she didn’t notice the goosebumps I had on what’s left of my skin.

I stopped arguing with her at that point. She is different from my previous employers indeed.

Percy injects me with stimpaks, then moves in front of me and turns on her Pip-Boy light. “I’m just gonna check for a concussion.” She shines it in my eyes and everything is white.

“I was training to be a doctor before I was forced to leave the vault, you know,” she tells me, then she turns off the light. My vision readjusted to the rising sun, its rays hitting her eyes through the holes in the building, her irises shifting from almost black to a vibrant brown. They remind me of chocolate, a rare treat from pre-war days.

“Your pupils are dilating and constricting equally, so no brain injury. I think. How are you feeling?” she asks me, and I look away, not daring to meet her eyes.

“Better.”

“No headaches or pain?”

“None.”

“Good. Get dressed and rest up, I’ll install the dish.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

When she returned, she had a smile on her face and her bun had come undone from the wind up the tower. She slumps next to me and opens a bottle of Nuka-Cola from her pack. After taking a swig, she passes the bottle to me.

“What a day. Let’s rest for awhile here,” she tells me, rolling her joints.

“Certainly.”

“Help yourself to whatever food we still have in the pack,” Percy half speaks, half-yawns. “I’ll take a nap. Wake me up in thirty minutes?”

“As you wish.”

Thirty minutes passed, but I didn’t touch any of her food, content on drinking the sugary drink in hand. I gently shake her awake. When she wakes up, she blinks a few times at me, smiles, and she runs her fingers through her hair, sticky and matted from her sweat. “I should probably get a haircut. Let’s get to Underworld. Snowflake offered to do it for free.”

After resting for a few more minutes, we stood up, collected our gear, and I followed her. While walking back to Underworld, she turns on her radio, and Galaxy News Radio comes in clear as day.

“ _People of the Capital Wasteland, you can hear meeeee! Yeeeaa haaaa!!! You can't stop the signal, baby! That's right, from Megaton to Girdershade, Paradise Falls to the Republic of Dave, we are coming to you loud and proud, in a special live report!_ ”

Percy beams and laughs. “That Three Dog is quite the character, huh?”

 _“But Three Dog? You're in that cool radio studio in D.C. How do_ you _know I can hear you, all the way out here in the ass end of nowhere? Because of the kid from Vault 101, that's how! That gal actually managed to repair our antenna relay. But get this, she wasn’t acting alone! Sources say that a tall, dark, and scary ghoul was accompanying Miss 101 as she braved through the super mutants in downtown DC. Who is this mysterious ghoul? Hired muscle? A slave? A friend? Whoever he may be, the Ranger of the Wastes is safer with him around, so cheers to him too. Now, the two of you, hurry over to GNR. We have a lot to talk about!”_

I doubt the last statement.

As we approached Underworld, Willow is nowhere to be found. Something’s wrong, and Percy feels it too, turning off her radio.

“Charon. Willow’s missing. And it’s too quiet.”

“There may be danger here,” I tell her, placing my body defensively in front of her as we approach the entrance.

The doors swung open, and Doc Barrows stood there, along with Willow and a few other residents, pointing their guns at us.

“We need to talk.”


	6. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: threats of non-con/rape, heavy references to drug use.

September 17, 2277

I count how many people are aiming their guns at us. Twelve. A dozen people versus two. Out of instinct, I draw my shotgun and aim it at those pointing their weapons at my mistress, but she only holds her hands up calmly, and looks at me from the corner of her eyes.

“Charon, stand down,” she tells me, and as much as it frustrates me, I oblige. I put my hands in the air too, mimicking her.

“Doc Barrows, what seems to be the problem?” Percy asks, calm despite it all, but I can see the thin sheen of sweat on her brow.

“Percy. Good to see you. I’m afraid I would have to apprehend Charon for killing Ahzrukhal.”

“I didn’t know you were also Underworld’s sheriff, Doc.”

“Mayor. My civic duties take a backseat due to my obligations as Underworld’s sole doctor. Don’t worry, this is just a formality,” Barrows explains, lowering his gun.

“We’ll comply. I’m surprised none of you tried to shoot or apprehend us when it happened though,” Percy replies, glasses sliding down her nose, but her hands remain in the air.

“Normally, residents would be more than willing to attack aggressors, but Charon is still one of our own. People were shocked to see him murder his employer. They didn’t know what to do, and they didn’t want to approach the stranger with the high-powered weapon who acquired his contract either,” Barrows answers her, gesturing to the rifle on my mistress’ back.

“Some of us suspect that you had some involvement with his death, but you’ve been forthcoming with your dealings so far, smoothskin. A lot of the people thought we should give you a chance to explain yourselves.”

“That’s all I ask,” Percy mumbles, nodding. “I’m glad you think I’m trustworthy enough not to shoot on sight. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s settle this.”

I watch as Willow holds her arm, an apologetic look on the ghoulette’s face. “Sorry, tourist. Come with me, no sudden movements,” she tells the mistress. Percy took it all in stride, putting her hands on her head. “You don’t have to do that,” Willow rasps, leading my mistress inside the concourse.

“Willow, spending a month in the wasteland made me realize that trust is hard to come by. I want to keep yours.”

“You’re really something else, smoothskin.”

“Maybe. Or maybe this is one of the few places in the wasteland where there aren’t crazy people or animals or mutants trying to kill me. I’d like to remain welcome here,” Percy responds.

“Smart choice.”

Meanwhile, the other ghouls point their weapons at me while I walk behind my mistress. They’re right to be cautious. Although I’m still a citizen of Underworld, the contract dictates that my loyalty is now to Percy. Should they hurt her, I’d be forced to protect her from them.

Barrows lead us to the Ninth Circle, where the blood on the floor has been scrubbed, and Ahzrukhal’s rotting corpse is nowhere to be found. The stench of death still lingers, but I found it comforting, a reminder that I’m not longer under that bastard’s employ.

Willow drags a chair out for my mistress, and she sits down, while I remain standing, guns still pointed at my back. People gathered around us in a broken circle, and more onlookers started to flock to the scene, including Tulip, Winthrop, Greta, and Carol who normally did not like coming to the bar.

“What’s going on here?” Carol asks, weaving through the crowd. “Oh! Percy, why are they holding you and Charon up? Did something happen?”

“Don’t worry about me, Carol. It’s just a misunderstanding,” Percy replies.

“‘Misunderstanding’ is one hell of a word for murder, don’t you think, smoothskin?” one of the onlookers jeers, and the murmurs in the crowd grow stronger. “Maybe the others’ suspicions are right and you killed Ahzrukhal for Charon’s contract!”

“My, that’s a grave accusation! A sweet girl like Percy wouldn’t do such a thing, wouldn’t she?” Carol cuts in, worry etched on her flaking face. Her voice gets drowned out by the angry patrons.

One of them gets too close to Percy and I grab him by the throat.

“Charon!” My mistress holds me back, her hand pulling at my bicep. “Stop. Please, I don’t want any violence. We’re here to clear our names.”

“Charon, now a smoothskin’s little bitch boy,” the ghoul chokes out, and my grip on his neck tightens. “If it wasn’t for my mistress,” I rasp, looking the asshole in the eye. “I would’ve crushed your neck. Be thankful for her.”

“That’s enough. We’re not here to make accusations or engage in a bar fight,” Barrows asserts, and the crowd falls silent. I let go of the asshole, and stand beside my mistress. Percy looks at me, and I feel… _guilt_. I dragged my mistress into this mess.

“Mistress, if I haven’t killed Ahzrukhal…” I finally speak up, but Percy shakes her head. “You did what you have to do, big guy. I’ll help sort this out, I promise,” she whispers to me.

Barrows clears his throat. “You’ll have your turn to speak, young lady. I want to hear what Charon has to say. Why kill Ahzrukhal?”

“Talk to Percy,” I tell him, to which my mistress shakes her head.

“Charon. I’m not Ahzrukhal. I will not forbid you to speak to other people. You may answer Doctor Barrows’ question.”

“I-,” I tried to argue, but she is my mistress, and she is right. I’m no longer under Ahzrukhal’s employ, and any conditioning and methods I have learned from him, I have to unlearn so I may adapt to my new employer.

“Very well,” I start, my ruined vocal cords straining from being barely used. “I killed Ahzrukhal because he’s a danger to Underworld’s residents. I did all his dirty work for him while under his employ, so I speak from experience. When my mistre- when _Miss_ _Percy_ purchased my contract, I was free to correct the wrongdoings I committed while I was his employee. I thought the obvious solution is to kill him, and so I did. Miss Percy has nothing to do with this. She is innocent.”

Murmurs from the crowd start to grow louder once more.

“What do you mean by Ahzrukhal being a danger to Underworld’s people?” one of the people shouts, probably Ahzrukhal’s previous patron. “He’s just a bartender.”

“Hey, Charon has a point.” Another pipes up. Tulip. “Just a few weeks ago, Charon threw Patchwork over the balcony and broke his fingers. Ahzrukhal ordered him to do it. It’s the smoothskin who managed to get him to stop. She even dragged Patchwork to the doc and picked up his fingers.”

“Yeah, doc. It also doesn’t help that he doesn’t stop selling booze to the boy in the first place. It’s getting bad for him. C’mon doc, isn’t there something wrong with that?” another ghoul adds. Winthrop.

My mistress speaks up. “There is. Intervening with a patient’s addictions is a form of preventive care. I’m sure you’ve been telling him to lay off the booze, Doc Barrows, but no one’s removing him from the environment that’s enabling him. Hell, Ahzrukhal is fuelling his alcoholism. It doesn’t help that he’s hooking the others on jet too.”

The murmurs erupt to arguments. A few of Ahzrukhal’s former patrons called my mistress a meddling bitch, a snitch, a whore, and other unsavory things. Some of them accused me of being a traitor by siding with my human mistress. Others feigned ignorance about the jet trade, even when I saw them buying from Ahzrukhal a few times. Barrows had to shout at everyone to quiet down. Percy, silent throughout the entire ordeal, squeezes my hand, as if offering reassurance, and asking for it too.

“Enough! If anyone can provide solid evidence that Ahzrukhal is indeed hooking people on chems, it would be appreciated. As a doctor of medicine, the community’s health is my concern.”

“Check his terminal. He keeps his logs in there, but it’s locked,” I tell him.

“I know how to hack it,” my mistress adds, and Barrows motioned for her to work. A few keystrokes in, the mistress manages to unlock Ahzrukhal’s terminal, and Barrows starts reading the entries.

“Charon and the smoothskin’s accusations are true.”

“But is it enough to justify murder?” one of them shouts.

More arguments. Shouting. The entire thing was a shitshow.

“If risking the community’s health by peddling chems doesn’t convince you people that he’s a danger, I can prove that he wanted one of your people dead too,” Percy declares, and all eyes are on her. The room falls into a hush. She fishes out a small item from her pocket. A holotape.

“I didn’t trust Ahzrukhal after that incident with Patchwork, so I made it a point to look for blank holotapes to record him every time I stayed in the Ninth Circle.”

She slots it in her Pip-Boy, and a recording begins to play.

“ _-heard you’ve been poking around about Charon’s contract,_ ” a voice says. It’s Ahzrukhal’s. “ _Perhaps, we can come to an agreement?_ ”

 _“What kind of agreement?”_ Percy’s voice.

 _“You see, you might not like the deal that I have to offer. I don't like competition. Not at all. It goes against every principle that I have as a businessman. So, the fact that there is another source for booze in town is… troubling.”_ I fucking hated that voice.

 _“Greta, the waitress over at Carol's…_ _Kill her. Make it quiet. Do it, and you can have Charon's contract.”_ A gasp rings out from the crowd, and it’s from Carol.

_“Kill her? I- why not ask Charon to do that? Why ask me?”_

_“Loyal employee that he is, Charon would do it without question if I asked him to. However, the entire town would come down on me for it. Greta is quite popular too, and if Charon kills her, everyone will know that I ordered her death. I need him to be with me clear as day so I may feign ignorance.”_

_“With all due respect, Mister Ahzrukhal, but you can go fuck yourself. I’m not killing an innocent person. In fact, perhaps I should warn the other residents about your plans...”_

_“Your choice, madam. If you decide to blabber about our little deal, however, I won’t hesitate to unleash Charon upon you.”_

Beside me, my mistress’ breathing is becoming irregular as the recording went on. The sheen of sweat on her forehead turns into a trickle. Seeing her distressed when she’s normally collected and smiling… I decided that I do not like it. I do not like to see her like this.

_“In fact, I think it’s about time I give the good pup a treat… perhaps a bitch like you?”_

“ _What._ ”

 _“Why not, miss? You seem eager to get your hands on my faithful employee anyway. I’d be doing you a favor. Did you know he’s still intact? It’s about time that this place gets a new source of entertainment. I’m sure the two of you will put up quite a show._ ”

My stomach begins to churn. Did Ahzrukhal really threaten her with something unspeakable… and he was planning to use me to do his bidding? I can’t imagine forcing myself on another individual, and doing that to the only smoothskin who was decent to me in the brief time I knew her too? I felt sick. If she hadn’t purchased my contract...

_“You’re fucking sick. Whatever. I’m paying the thousand cap fee and getting out of here.”_

_“A thousand caps? Please, come back when you have a serious offer. Charon? Accompany Miss 101 out of Underworld… Charon. Get your thumb out of your ass. I said, accompany Miss 101 out of Underworld.”_

_“You said a thousand caps, you rat bastard.”_

_“I’m sorry ma’am, Charon’s contract is far more valuable to me than a thousand caps. Unless, you want to reconsider the offer I gave you previously?”_

The recording ends. No one dared to say a word.

“If Charon hadn’t shot him up, and he finds a wastelander with a lesser conscience, Greta would be dead,” the mistress finally speaks up, unslotting the holotape from her Pip-Boy and handing it to Barrows.

“Here’s all the evidence you need. He did me a favor, he did Carol a favor, he did Greta a favor. Hell, Charon did all of you a favor.”

Barrows remained quiet, probably unsure of what to say after hearing all that. Carol runs over to embrace my mistress like a mother holding a child, weeping, thanking her. Percy lets her, and the ghoulette walks over to thank me as well, sniffling. People were shouting, arguing, and though some came to our defense, some still thought that we should still face punishment. One ghoul called us heroes. Another said I was still a murderer. It was pure discord.

In the end, the mayor decides to let us walk. The crowd dispersed after that.

Only my mistress and I remained in the bar. She’s staring at the spot where Ahzrukhal’s body used to lie, and sighs, relieved. The tension from her shoulders begin to melt. I’m still absorbing what the fuck just happened.

“Mi- Percy, may I ask you something?” I speak up. Percy turns around.

“You don’t have to ask permission, Charon. You’re free to ask me questions, make suggestions, anything. Just talk to me.”

“I will remember to do so,” I tell her.

“So, what did you want to ask?”

“I cannot comprehend why you would risk yourself for me. You’ve known me for less than three weeks, and I’ve been in your employ for just a few hours, but you’re more than willing to face an angry mob to come to my defense, when I should be the one serving you. Why?”

“Why not?”

I could not answer.

“You got my back, I got yours. It’s what partners are for.”

“Percy, the contract dictates-”

“I told you, let’s sort it out later. Let’s get out of here. I need my haircut,” she laughs, tossing her hair back.

My mistress’ motivations remain a mystery to me, but I am content to be by her side.


	7. V

February 5, 2278.

The doctor’s words sank in. No. It’s the other way around. _I have no one else but her._

After that first incident with the Brotherhood, I had been more vigilant in protecting Percy more than ever. Dr. Li and the few scribes she had authorized are the only people allowed inside Percy’s room, and the scribes who are allowed in need to be accompanied by the doctor at all times, never unsupervised. There were people all over the wasteland whose lives she touched that wanted to see her. Some of the teenagers she helped in Big Town came by yesterday but they were turned away. Moira Brown, the annoying scientist who runs Craterside Supply in Megaton, came by too. She wasn’t allowed inside. Less work for me.

Dr. Li was in the middle of taking Percy’s blood pressure when the intercom crackled. _“Dr. Li, there’s some kid insisting that they see Percy Zhou. I’m telling him to leave but he’s persistent.”_

“Not another wastelander wanting to see her. It’s the fourth time today,” Dr. Li sighs, walking towards the intercom. “I thought I made myself clear the first time. No visitors.”

Then, the boy’s voice comes in, accompanied with a dog’s bark. _“Hey! Don’t you know who I am? I’m the Butch DeLoria! Percy and I grew up together in the Vault! We’re even in a gang together! Let me in-”_

_“Get off that! Dr. Li should I-”_

“He’s being truthful,” I finally say when the doctor starts massaging her temples.

“You know who he is? Can he be trusted?”

I weigh my options. On one hand, he can be, and he brought Percy’s dog with him. On the other hand, I would have to put up with that obnoxious piece of shit again.

“Yes.”

The doctor leans into the intercom. “Send him in.”

The door swings open and the Brotherhood grunts shove the guest in. He looks exactly the same as the first time I saw him, save for the wasteland grime and the white shirt and jeans he had in place of his vault suit underneath his leather jacket, identical to the one Percy wears when she’s not in her armor. Comb in hand, the pretty boy greaser fixed up his stupid pompadour. Percy’s dog bounds towards me, panting and wagging his tail.

Maybe this visit wouldn’t be so unpleasant after all.

“I said watch the hair, goddammit,” he snarls at the tin cans. They just shrugged and left.

“And who are you?” Dr. Li cuts in, holding a medical clipboard with a stern expression on her face. It resembles Percy’s, at times. Honestly, it’s weird.

“Butch DeLoria, y’know, the new barber in Rivet City? Percy’s gang leader? Anyway, where’s Percy? I brought Dogmeat with me, I thought that he’d- oh. _Damn._ ”

DeLoria shut his damn mouth up when he saw Percy lying unconscious on the gurney, tubes attached to her body and living on life support. Her skin, though now free of burns, is still ghostly pale, and her lips still tinged blue. Her hair stopped falling off, but she still lost clumps. Breathing faint, still bleeding in some places, but alive.

“Perce, what happened to you?” he mumbles, walking over to her. His face sags and so does his shoulders. Pretty boy reached out to touch her, but I placed an arm to hold him back, and shook my head. Dogmeat sniffs his mistress' hand and I hold him off as well, which earned me a whine.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?”

“Her immune system is still compromised,” Dr. Li speaks up, wedging herself between Percy and us, and she puts her gloves on.

“Whaddaya mean, doc?”

“Persephone is suffering from aplastic anemia due to the radiation exposure damaging her bone marrow. It means her red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelet count are plummeting. Her body is too weak to ward off even the most benign infections. Platelet transfusions and antibiotics keep her protected but we can never be too careful. It’s miraculous she’s still alive and recovering well for someone who was exposed to a lethal dose of radiation.”

“Damn, doc, English please.” The greaser is starting to get on my nerves, and the doctor’s too. Secretly, I had hoped she would throw him out.

“She is vulnerable and you can kill her with your germs. Now please, one of the scribes will come in soon to clean and disinfect her bedpan and I need to administer some medication. Privacy would be appreciated.”

“Oh. Um. Okay. I’ll just hang with Charon here,” Butch replies. His shoulders sag even further.

“Charon, if you could please ensure that our guest behaves himself so I can tend to Persephone, it would be appreciated,” Dr. Li tells me.

Dammit.

For the first time since she was admitted, I left Percy’s room. Usually, I’d just turn around when the scribes come to clean up after her. Now, I’m stuck with this ass. I’m not sure if I should be relieved that he’s not being himself. The two of us sat in silence on a bench nearby, a seat apart, where Dogmeat sat down. The dog’s resting his head on my lap, and I pet his scarred face, remembering how Percy cried when we almost lost him to a deathclaw in Olney. I settled in my seat. Greaser boy didn’t.

“Hey,” he finally breaks the silence, much to my dismay. I’m not in a conversational mood. I just want to watch over my partner.

“Look man, I know you’re not much of a talker, but I need to get this out,” Butch speaks up, staring at his feet. “I don’t know if Percy ever talked about me, but, I’ve been an ass to her. I hurt her when we were kids, and I hurt her a lot.”

Pretty boy sniffs, lights a cigarette, and offers one to me as well. I take it, and he lights it for me. “Somehow she still had it in her to forgive me for being an ass and we became partners in crime. Then she loved me, trusted me, and I threw that away. Fuck, I’m surprised she still let me back into her life as a friend.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Silence.

DeLoria glares at me, a look of regret and envy in his eyes. What the hell?

“I saw how you look at her.”

“What.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“I had a hunch her joke about you being her new boyfriend wasn’t one. I should be insulted that Percy would rather be with a _ghoul_ than me, but hey, as long as she’s happy huh?”

“What the fuck are you talking about.” The words were bitter and flat, coming from my mouth.

“Wait, I thought you two were _together_ together.”

_"What."_

DeLoria groans and palms at the back of his neck. “Man, Perce almost broke my jaw when I called you a zombie in the vault, remember? You two are obviously tight, then some of those Brotherhood assholes were talking about how she’s riding ghoul dick. I thought I put two and two together.”

I couldn’t help myself. I stood up and grabbed him by the collar, fuming. The cigarette falls from his mouth as I push him against the wall. “My partner is unconscious, barely alive, and a distasteful comment about her is the last thing I want to hear.”

I wanted to break his jaw for real. The kid smells like aftershave, cigarette smoke, and fresh, adrenalized sweat. All of the false bravado he had drained from his face.

“Whoa, calm down! Don’t shoot the messenger, geez. I’m an ass, but I’d be the last to talk shit about Percy. Not after what she’s been through. Take it out on the Brotherhood, not me!”

“What else are they saying?”

“Well, one of them called you a freak, a zombie, a cradle-robbing corpse, a-”

“I do not concern myself with what they say about me. What did they say about my partner?”

“They called her a bleeding heart, a ghoul fucker and a mutant lover, I don’t know, dammit. I just got here, remember?”

I let him go before I hurt him with my misplaced anger. We pick up our fallen cigarettes. DeLoria straightens his jacket.

“Man, you’re too intense. Chill, won’t you?” He tosses a stick of bubblegum to me and I catch it with one hand. “Here. I was supposed to bring ‘em for Percy but, yeah. I didn’t know she ain’t awake. Guy on the radio just said that she’s alive thanks to you.”

I grunted in acknowledgement, and unwrapped the bubblegum. Damn sugar is going to rot my teeth, and I’m fortunate enough to still have most of them, but I couldn’t help it. It’s a habit I picked up from travelling with my partner. I pop it in my mouth and sit back down on the bench, contemplating.

What DeLoria told me explains the weight behind Li’s words when she said that she didn’t care what the nature of my relationship with my partner was. Percy cleaned up the wasteland, started the damn purifier, and almost died as a result, and she receives not a single ounce of respect. Just because she chose to be associated with me.

I can’t help but resent the Brotherhood even more. Ungrateful bastards.

“Dammit, I’m not good with this heart-to-heart bullshit. I don’t care, just… never stop taking care of Percy, okay?”

I nod at him. He's resting his head on his hands. “Screw it, I’m off. I’ll try to visit again soon. I’ll leave the dog here. If- _when_ she wakes up, tell her I’ll do her hair for her. It’s a mess.”

DeLoria finally stands up and dusts his jacket. He walks away wordlessly, head hung low on his shoulders.

Once again, I’m left with my thoughts.

I pondered on the rumors about our relationship.

Percy is the first friend I made in a long time. My condition did not bother her. She went out of her way to put any bigot in their place, even when their words had no effect on me. She shared with me her bubblegum, Nuka-Cola, her books, the roof over her head, and a whole lot more. She’s my first employer who treated me as an equal, and the only to grant me freedom from my contract.

Percy _cannot_ be harboring feelings for an old, damaged ghoul like me. Hell, her ex-boyfriend is a pretty boy. I can’t fucking compete with that. She, as Carol said, is a pretty, young smoothskin. A happy future with a smoothskin spouse is what she deserves. A liaison with me would be terrible for her. Ghouls already face enough bigotry on a daily basis. Merely being accused of fucking one can have dire consequences for a smoothskin. Bigots will lynch her, whether I did touch her or not.

She doesn’t deserve that.

She deserves better than me.

I crushed the cigarette under my heel and grimaced. I went back inside Percy’s room after Dr. Li gave me the all-clear, Dogmeat following close behind. At the foot of her bed, I sat once more, this time with a mutt on my lap. I look at Percy’s sleeping form, the tubes, and the medical equipment.

I need to hear her laugh again. I need to touch her. I need to hold her hand, and close it around mine. I need to feel her warmth pressed against my chest. I need to feel her lips against my ruined mouth again, just like in the rotunda.

In the five months I knew her, Percy stirred something in me, and I did my best to hold it in. I was scared; it’s unfamiliar.

The kiss she gave me before she went in the purifier forced me to confront the truth. Everything I had suppressed rushed to the surface.

Is it love?

Whatever it is, it gave me hope.

It ruined me.

  
  



	8. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: PTSD/traumatic recall, mentions of past abuse

September 19, 2277.

It’s been two days since the incident. I still can’t figure out my mistress’ motivations for helping me with that sorry excuse of a trial. Perhaps she’s protecting her 2000 cap investment, but she took the money back from Ahzrukhal’s body when I shot him. Letting me be apprehended by the people would certainly mean losing an asset, but she can always hire other mercenaries to take my place as her bodyguard. Whichever is it, I don’t know.

Things had calmed down in Underworld. Barrows decided that the Ninth Circle should be repurposed as an assembly area. Carol invited my mistress and I for lunch, and Greta said the food was on the house. Percy spent hours listening to Carol’s stories while I ate my meal in peace. I appreciated being able to sit down and eat. Ahzrukhal never granted me such a thing.

By the time we left Carol’s Place, Percy was blushing and smiling ear-to-ear from the stories and compliments the ghoulette told her. Carol stood in the doorway, an arm around Greta, as she watched us leave for Megaton, mentioning something about saying hi to someone named Gob.

Miss said that we are going to her house in Megaton. On the way, we made a detour to a scrapyard, the sun almost setting.

“Hey, Charon, could you help me look for a handbrake?” Percy asks, bent over a fallen motorcycle that she’s stripping for parts, and I set my sight on the horizon, watching for threats and actively avoiding looking at her.

“My contract entitles you to combat services. I’m afraid you have to look for it yourself,” I tell her, unmoving from my spot. I still refuse to look at her.

“Please? Two pairs of eyes are better than one,” she asks.

That word again. _Please_. I realize she’s not issuing a command. She’s asking me a favor. I see a pleading expression on her face, and I roll my eyes.

Grumbling as I marched over to help her look, I got on my knees next to her to look for the damn thing. When she laughed at my frustration, I finally allowed myself to look at her. Snowflake chopped my mistress’ dark hair to a very short bob, no longer the combat hazard that it used to be. When I tore away my eyes from her and started to really look for the item she mentioned, I found one just lying a few feet from us, and held it out to her with a flat expression. She looks at me, laughs, and tucks the handbrake safely in her sack of scrap.

“Oops. Didn’t see that just there, sorry.”

“Your eyesight could put us at a disadvantage in combat, mistr-.”

Percy gives me that look again. I realize my mistake. “Miss.”

Laughing and shrugging me off, she stands up and shakes the dirt off her knees. “Okay, maybe I can tolerate ‘miss’, Mr. Dreamboat. I still prefer Percy, though.”

I can’t help but grumble and groan in exasperation, but the jokes are better than what I experienced from past employers when I unintentionally disobey an order. Far better.

“I will endeavor to adjust to your preferences, Percy.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the effort, big guy,” she replies, moving on to rummage through a toolbox next to an old, decrepit car. “It’s hard to unlearn all the habits you picked up from your previous employers, so don’t sweat it. I’m giving you a wide room for error. You are allowed to make mistakes, unless it gets one or both of us killed, of course.”

“I shall do my best not to commit such errors, miss.”

Then, I heard a laugh bubble from her throat again.

“A skin mag? _Really?_ ” she mutters, perusing a pornographic pre-war magazine hidden underneath the tools. She looks over her shoulder and sees me waiting for her, and she seems almost bashful. “N-not that I was planning on keeping it,” she stutters, tossing the magazine aside.

“What my employers do in their spare time isn’t my business.”

Percy pauses, then throws her head back, laughing in relief. “Finally, I’m in good company,” she said, breezing past me to pick up and tuck the magazine in her pack. She goes back to rummaging through the toolbox with an embarrassed smile.

Then, we both hear it. Gunfire, and barks. Percy immediately drops what she’s doing and runs towards the noise.

Cursing, I followed close by, and a raider was shooting at a dog. A scavenger lies dead on the ground, the dog’s former master I presume, and another raider, with teeth marks on his neck. Not wanting to waste ammo on a lone raider, Percy retrieves her baseball bat from her pack and gives the raider a hard smack on the head, and the dog lunges in for the kill, sinking its teeth in the raider’s neck. I didn’t even have to move a muscle.

Then, the dog sidles over, whimpering, a gash on its side. My mistress immediately falls to her knees and pets the animal. “Charon. Charon are you seeing this? It’s a dog! An actual dog!”

I was confused by her enthusiastic reaction, then I remember that she’s from a vault. She probably saw them only in pictures. “Hi boy. You’re okay,” she coos at the mutt, running her small hands on its head and giving it a good pet.

“You lost your friend, did you boy?” The dog whines at her, almost as if it can understand the words she’s saying. “Hey, I lost my dad too. I’m still looking for him.”

At her remark, the dog licks her face. “Huh. Well aren’t you smart? I think I should call you... Dogmeat. Like that dog from an old sci-fi flick. Do you like that, boy?”

Dogmeat slobbers on Percy’s face even more. Then, he bounds towards me, sniffs me, and decides that my hand is worth slobbering on.

“Charon, I think he likes you too,” Percy coos, and the edge of my lip twitches upward. I let go of my inhibitions and pet the dog’s furry head.

“C’mon, let’s get home.”

Eyes were on us when we arrived in Megaton. The sheriff, a man called Lucas Simms, went over to greet my mistress, and asked about me and the dog. Percy tells him that we are her new friends. Simms tipped his hat at me, told me that I am welcome as long as I treat Megaton’s people right, then went on his way. Seems like a decent enough man.

Percy dug in her satchel for the key to her house, and when the door swung open, we were greeted by one of those old Mr. Handy robots from before the war. My mistress dumps her sack of junk near the door. The dog gives the robot a curious sniff before moving on and settling at my mistress’ feet.

“Well, this is home. It’s not much, but it’s a place to sleep in. What do you think?”

There’s a salvaged couch and a busted pre-war television set in the living room, a stove in the kitchen, and school lockers repurposed as storage. A shelf holds her cutlery and there is a lone sink near the fridge. No toilets or showers. The stairs don’t have any safety railings, but thankfully the area above has some. I’ve seen houses in a more sorry state, but the house had no windows nor other exits. Still very much a hazard.

“C’mon, don’t be shy, big guy. You’ll be living here with me until we sort your contract out,” Percy asks, sitting on the couch and kicking her boots off.

“I don’t like the look of this place.”

“Yeah I- huh?” Percy looks at me with wide eyes. I realize that I have been too blunt and insulted the house of the girl who patched me up after being ambushed by super mutants.

Dammit.

“There is only one entry and exit point. It’s unsafe in case of an emergency, such as a fire, or a home invasion,” I tell her and cross my arms, not daring to meet her eyes.

To my surprise, she nods. “Yeah. It freaks me out. I still haven’t asked Moira to help me drill windows.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“It’s still adequate shelter,” I tell her, but she moves on.

“Follow me,” she tells me, climbing up the stairs. There were two rooms, one that didn’t have a door on the left, and a smaller one with a door on the right. “I use the room on the right to store things, but you can have it. I’ll move the things tomorrow... I think there’s also a spare mattress inside,” Percy tells me, opening the door, and some items come spilling out.

A bedroom? Under Ahzrukhal’s employ, I didn’t even have a bed. I didn’t even get sleep.

“Miss Percy, this isn’t necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am trained to go without sleep. Providing me with a room would only be a waste of your resources.”

The mistress looks at me in disbelief. “Wait, are you saying that Ahzrukhal didn’t let you sleep? You just stand in that corner all night?”

“...yes. I only leave for meals and to relieve myself.”

Percy does it again, that gesture where she raises her hands in frustration. “Christ, no wonder you’re so grumpy. Just take the damn room, Charon. It'll give both you and me some privacy, and you’ll get some sleep.”

I didn’t get privacy from my previous employers too, save for the times I needed to piss or shit. My head is light from all the things Percy is granting me, but I’m still grateful.

“I- yes, miss. Thank you.”

Thanking Percy felt foreign on my lips. My employers never did anything for me to be thankful for. I can’t help but feel suspicious of this girl, but her smile hides no malice behind it. It’s baffling, but I decided that I still like being under her employ.

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll be right back. Just need to fetch some groceries and disinfectant for my suture kit from the store. I need to boil those tools soon...”

“I’ll accompany you,” I tell her, but she shakes her head. “I’ll be fine Charon. Now go on, make yourself at home. You can clean up in the sink then get some sleep.”

I nodded. As soon as the door shut, I walked to the sink and undressed. I can’t even remember the last time I took a sink bath. Then, I changed into a sleeveless white undershirt and gray boxers… the only spare clothes I own. I go in _my room_ , turn on the lamp on a table in my room, and see everything in my room. There’s an assortment of junk, weapons, and armor.

Then, I see it. Power armor with a white paint job. The letters “USA” with a serial number next to it.

The straw that broke the brahmin’s back.

??? ??, ????

I flinch from a burst of snow, the metal of my armor feels frozen to the touch. The side has been cracked open, red staining the snow. My blood. I touch it and it stains my gloved hand. A .308 round tore through the metal. A pair of hands drag me to safety and I hear my orders from the radio. Get back up. Get back up or risk being taken prisoner. I can’t disobey an order.

Scrambling to my feet, I pick up my rifle. My legs drag me to the sniper’s nest, squadmates covering me, and I can taste iron in my mouth. I do not stop. I have been trained to withstand this. I looked for the tell-tale silver-white reflection, and when I saw it, I opened fire. The sniper uncloaks and lies bleeding face-first, broken on the floor. I see the red star on the nape of his armor, and he rolls on his back, and attempts to reach for the 10 mm on his hip, and I kick it away. He’s begging in a language I can’t understand, but I pay no attention to it. The only thing that matters is my orders. Aiming for the head, I shot him, and the helmet broke into pieces.

At the sound of my gun firing, I look at the soldier and see that there weren't any chunks of gore underneath his shattered helmet. Instead, I was looking at a woman’s face. The body wasn’t a man’s either; the sniper’s breasts heaved as she breathed rapidly, dark eyes wild. She’s underneath me, back pressed against the dirt, and I feel heat on my back.

It’s Percy.

“Charon.”

Every damn muscle in my body hurt like hell, and my head feels like it’s been split open. I look at my hands, rough and peeling, with no bloodstains. A small hand was on my bicep, and I heard the whine of a dog.

“Oh, thank God,” I hear a person gasp. It’s my mistress’ voice.

“Percy. What day is it?”

“It’s September 20, Charon.”

“What year?”

“2277.”

I let out a shaky exhale. My mistress beckons me, and I follow her wordlessly. Percy leads me to the couch, and we sit on the opposite ends of it. Dogmeat follows us too, putting his head on my lap. A look of worry is etched on Percy’s face. “That’s some nightmare, big guy.”

Just great. The first sleep I had in fuck knows how long, and I get a nightmare.

“Do you mind telling me about it?”

My jaw hardens. “If conversation is your order to me, I shall converse with you.”

“Hey, it’s not an order. If you don’t trust me enough to tell me yet, I understand.”

Relief floods through me. I grunted in acknowledgment. My mistress stands up and heads to the kitchen, and comes back with a plate of food. Broiled mirelurk cakes. “Um, here. I made these last night and reheated them. Please, eat with me.”

My eyes wander to my mistress. Her short hair is tousled, her eyes are still heavy with sleep, her face is clean, and she wears nothing but a black shirt and gray boyshorts. Now she’s serving me breakfast.

I think about the domesticity of the scene and decide to say nothing about it.

We finish our meal in peace, and she gets up to put the dishes in the sink. I busy myself with stripping and cleaning my shotgun, and my mistress busies herself with a book. Dogmeat eats his breakfast on a dog dish that Percy bought last night. It was a comfortable silence.

Then, she broke it.

“I need to say something,” she starts, looking at me with a firm expression. “Remember when I said that I was studying to be a doctor in the vault?”

I nod at her, and she clears her throat. “Part of my training is psychiatry. It's... how do I put it… the study of the health of the human mind. So, aside from keeping you physically healthy, I can also help with that.”

I let my mistress continue. An anxious look is on her face.

“And uh, I know the theory behind most of it, but I have no experiences providing those services to a patient yet. I need to properly diagnose you, but, you were screaming and saying some things in your sleep. I don’t think that what you experienced is a regular nightmare, big guy.”

I blink at her a few times.

“Charon, I think you were experiencing a traumatic recall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God. I am posting this at three in the morning so please excuse any grammatical errors I missed, I am exhausted. This is a difficult chapter to write because of the research involved. My experiences with MH problems are limited to depression and suic*de ideation, and I am by no means a mental health professional, so the depiction of PTSD in my works can be inaccurate. If it is, please do not hesitate to correct me. I want to write and portray these subjects in a respectful manner.
> 
> Thank you for reading this far. Feedback is highly appreciated. <3


	9. VII

September 20, 2277.

Percy paces around in the room, looks for something to write on, then settles on the couch again. “Charon… you were saying something about your orders from General Chase in your dream. General Chase was a prominent figure in the Sino-American War 200 years ago. My God, were you there during the Battle of Anchorage?”

Hearing ‘Anchorage’ felt like wires crossed in my brain. The itch in my brain when I saw her in the stealth armor for the first time started to make sense. Anchorage is where I first saw it, worn by enemy troops. Crimson Dragoons, some of them snipers, just like her. My throat feels tight, and I cannot answer. I just nod.

“Charon, I won’t be asking about the details of the dream, but was the dream showing a traumatic event? Like, someone dying, or you getting hurt?”

“Yes. It’s... weird,” I manage to rasp. “There are some parts that I know did not happen recently. Then, there are events which happened within the past week.”

“I see. Did you feel like you were living in that moment again, instead of being at my house, on this day?” she asks me, and I nod. She continues to scribble on the piece of paper that she found.

“Any idea what might’ve triggered it?” she asks me, and I shrug. “Anything? Like a sound, or an object that reminds you of the event?”

I pause for a second. I remember the feeling I had looking at the power armor in my room before my body forced me to sleep.

“The power armor, in the room you gave me,” I tell her, and her eyebrows perk up. “I think I used to wear one of those.” Percy puts her pen and paper down, and stands up.

“I’ll refrain from discussing it further unless _you_ want to talk about it, but holy shit,” Percy exclaims, running a hand through her hair, back turned from me. “I’m so sorry for exposing you to that, if I only knew…” Percy sits back down and her eyes drift to her stealth suit that she stripped for maintenance. “Did my armor remind you of Anchorage too?”

“Yes,” I tell her the truth.

“I’ll stop wearing it, if it makes you relive those memories. I’ll remove the power armor from your room too.”

“I appreciate it, but your armor does not upset me, miss. Please, keep it. You have a higher chance of surviving combat situations with it.”

Percy sighs. “If you’re sure that it doesn’t upset you, okay.” She clears her throat when she realizes the professional facade she’s been putting on slipped off.

“Anyway, I’ve yet to observe arousal and mood symptoms, but, Charon, you’re showing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder,” said Percy after a few minutes of tense silence, who’s now looking at the book she was occupied with earlier. “I still need to observe you further. I don’t want to make a hasty diagnosis. If you do have it, I can assure you that it’s possible to get better, and I can help you.”

“It is not necessary, miss.”

“You can’t keep saying that whenever something concerning is happening to you,” the mistress scolds me. The dog jumps between us and starts burying his head on my lap.

“Miss, it is not your responsibility to look after my well-being. It is my own. You should not concern yourself with such things.”

“As someone who’s training to be a doctor, I just can’t ignore someone who’s clearly in need of professional help. What kind of doctor would that make me?”

“As my employer, however, it states in the contract that it is not your responsibility. You would know that if you’ve read it in its entirety,” I argue back, and Percy’s frustration grows. She rubs her hands against her face, and throws it up once again.

“But I- what if we weren’t… Why is it so hard to talk to you?”

My throat hitches at her outburst. This is the first time she raised her voice at me while I’m under her employ. Percy sags in front of me, eyes wild in her frustration, but it isn’t anger I am seeing in her face. Frustration. Worry. Sadness.

“If you think having me in your employ is more than you bargained for, you can sell my contract.”

“Wait, no! No. I can’t do that. I can’t just sell you like, like a rifle or-or a piece of armor,” Percy exclaims, holding her forehead with one hand.

“You are not selling me, miss. I belong to no one. You will be selling the ownership of my contract that entitles the holder my services in combat, and my full loyalty.”

“You’re not making it sound any better. Plus, we’re straying from the topic.”

Putting her legs on the couch and crossing her legs, she turns to me.

“How do I put this in a way that you’d understand? Charon, you and I are lucky that this happened in the safety of my home. I can’t have you slipping into an episode in the middle of the wasteland. You won’t be able to protect me, or yourself. You'd become a liability instead of an asset.”

“I think I understand now. Very well. I shall allow you to treat me,” I tell her, and she gives me a sigh of relief. I look at her expectantly, and she gives me a questioning look.

“What?”

“If you have any procedures to do, I’m allowing you to do so.”

My mistress rubs her face. “This isn’t like the time I patched up the wounds on your back, Charon. This process could take months, or even years. It’s a gradual thing.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

“But we can take small steps. Just one thing at a time,” she continues, a slight smile on her face. Percy picks up her book again, and scoots a little closer, the dog nestled between us. 

“Do you have any hobbies? Things you do for fun or leisure?” she asks me, that expectant look on her face again. I pause to think. I couldn’t answer. “None.”

“None? You do nothing in your spare time?”

“I wasn’t given the luxury of having ’spare time’ by my previous employers, miss.”

Percy’s shoulders sag further. There’s a look on her face that I haven’t seen in anyone in a long time. _Pity._ Most people would have fear on their faces when they see me. Not this one. She smiles. She feels worried for me. It relieves and overwhelms me at the same time. But pity? I don’t need it. Especially not from an employer. My function is to serve them.

She must’ve realized the look on her face, because she clears her throat and shrugs her shoulder. “Well then, we have plenty of time to look for activities you’ll enjoy.”

As my mistress continues to flip through her book, Dogmeat perks his head up and gives my ruined face a lick. His fur is no longer as dirty as it was when he found him. Probably Percy’s doing. I couldn’t stop myself. I ran my rough hands on his head to pet him, and the dog started wagging his tail. I glanced at Percy, and she was looking, that smile on her face again, and looked away just as I saw it. She clears her throat and flips to a page.

“Let’s start with grounding techniques.”

December 26, 2277.

It’s the day after Christmas. I can’t remember if I even celebrated it before the war, but Percy’s father insisted we stay with him to celebrate. Percy pulled me aside and told me that her father is religious, and though she never was, she still celebrates religious holidays with him and asked me to play along. My mistress looked uncomfortable and on edge the entire time. Though James was all smiles the entire time, there’s a scrutinizing look on James’ face; Percy shares the same look when we talk to strangers. It makes me feel wary.

Hours before James’ death, I was returning from an errand Percy gave me when I can vaguely hear her argument with her father from another room, muffled by the walls of the memorial. I wasn’t supposed to listen to a private conversation between a father and his child but I heard my name being mentioned by the doctor.

_“Persephone Zhou! That is malpractice! And you’re living under the same roof too?!”_

_“He has no one else! What, just because I patch him up and I help him cope with his problems_ -” Percy’s. Her father cuts her off before she can finish.

_“Honey, you are Charon’s doctor. And from what you’ve told me, you’ve been providing him services as a psychiatrist too. I can’t even find the words to describe how unethical this… dalliance of yours with him.”_

_“Dad! Oh my God, we’re not in a relationship! Where are you even hearing those rumors?!”_

Though the mistress had been good to me, I can imagine the look of disgust on her face when her father suggested such a thing. Ghouls and smoothskins don’t do relationships, no matter how kind a smoothskin may be. That’s just the way things were.

_“I’m sorry, Percy. Word travels fast. I’ve heard some concerning rumors about you and your ghoul friend.”_

_“Dad, if I did stay in the vault and became the head physician because **you** left and they killed Jonas, would I be disallowed to pursue any sort of connection because I’m the only doc in that hole? I’d be married to the job like you were after mom died? Is that it?” _

_“The circumstances are different and you know it. The vault is a very insular community so we had to rely on each other for social support. It would die out if its members did not reproduce or adapt to changes.”_

_“Dad, you’ve been in the wasteland. There’s just pockets of settlements here in DC, and doctors are scarce. Psychs and people training to be one are even scarcer. Would you call it unethical if they pursued friendships or fell in love with someone who they patched up so many times from being shot at by raiders? Or someone they counseled from all the violence in the wasteland? Jesus, dad, the American Psychiatric Association doesn’t even fucking exist anymore. It’s in ruins. I can even take you there.”_

_“Watch your language! I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful, Persephone.”_

_“I’m sorry. But how I say it doesn’t change the fact.”_

_“The fact is it’s still highly unethical. There are still institutions that exist that teach medicine and they would not approve of your point of view. How did you think I became a doctor?”_

_“I’m not arguing with you any further, dad. I’ll go run your errands now.”_

_“Fine. But we’re not done talking, young lady.”_

December 27, 2277.

It’s two hours past midnight. Percy’s screams and the sound of her baseball bat crashing against the metal of an old car echo through the scrapyard.

Only after accompanying the scientists to the Citadel, getting in a fist fight with a Brotherhood paladin for almost not allowing us inside because of my presence, and locating a thing called a GECK on the Brotherhood’s computers, did she finally allow herself to grieve her father. And she grieved hard.

At the sound of the bat snapping, she let out another scream and threw the broken weapon across the threshold. On her hands and knees, her glasses fell from her face, then she bruised her knuckles punching the dirt. Only then did I intervene, gently holding her arms and keeping it to her side. To my surprise, she doesn’t thrash or fight back. She froze for a minute, before curling into a ball and crying out as she settled against my chest.

The events that led to James’ death play over and over again in my head. If I hadn’t slowed her down…

“Percy, may I say something?”

She looks up to me, nodding, fresh tears staining her cheek. Her lips are trembling. She finally allowed herself to cry.

“I slowed us down. If I had overcome my episode faster, we would have gotten back to the rotunda and prevented the incident. It cost your father’s life. If you should punish me, or sell my contract, I will accept-”

“No!”

The word came out of her mouth as a broken cry. 

“Don’t blame my dad’s death on yourself, Charon. It’s the fucking Enclave’s fault, and no one else’s. You- we, we did the best we could,” said my mistress, sniffling.

“I understand.”

She draws closer and puts her arms around my neck, and my brain misfires at the gesture. It’s like someone set me on fire, but it doesn’t hurt. I had carried and held her before, but nothing like this. My heart was jumping to my throat. Warm against me, she buried her wet face at the crook of my neck. Another sob wracked her body and before I could think, my arms pulled her in an embrace, stilling her.

This isn’t the first time she sought comfort from my presence. She did so every time there were thunderstorms. I never dared to touch her, though a part of me wanted to draw circles in her skin and watch it bounce against my finger instead of flaking off, like mine does.

This is the first time I allowed myself to hold her too.

We remained like that for the next twenty or so minutes, then Percy breaks the silence.

“Charon.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever leave me. Please?”

“I’ll stay by your side as long as you will have me.”

Her arms stiffened in response.

“Are you saying this just because of the contract, or do you mean it? Please. Be honest.”

There it goes again. My breath hitching in my throat. I didn’t know how to respond. My mistress looks at me expectantly with her bloodshot eyes.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She pulls away from the embrace, and she doesn’t look at me as she picked up her glasses and collected herself. Dogmeat, who was terrified by her venting, finally sidles up to her side again and licks her hand. Percy pets him and embraces him in return, burying her face in the mutt’s fur and planting kisses on his forehead.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder what that would feel like every time Percy does it to the dog.

On the way to Megaton, she tinkers with the radio on her Pip-Boy, and a broadcast neither of us ever heard before comes in.

“Charon.”

“Yes?”

“I need to go home.”

When we arrived at the entrance of Vault 101, only then did I realize that she didn’t mean her house in Megaton. She let out a shaky exhale as the heavy vault door started to open after she put a password in the terminal.

“Welcome to my childhood home.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Just letting you guys know that I'll be taking a 1-2 week hiatus due to commission work and other personal projects. This includes a cover I've been working on for this fic. I might draw some of the scenes too. Thank you for reading this far darlings! <3


	10. VIII

September 23, 2277.

It’s been a few days since my recall. Percy told me to rest and we’ll leave for Rivet City in two days. Something about looking for a scientist called Madison Li. Percy said she might know where her father is.

On the wall opposite the couch hangs a photograph of the young mistress and her father. Percy said his name is James. Yesterday, she caught me looking at it and told me she was in a rush to leave the vault but she could never leave the photograph behind. He’s the splitting image of the mistress. _Almost._

The mistress and I had supper in silence, a slab of brahmin steak the mistress seared herself, with Instamash on the side. The dog is currently curled up in my lap while I sit on the couch. I can’t remember sitting something on something relatively comfortable and relaxing for once. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I relaxed and let my guard down before this Vault girl walked into my life.

It’s… difficult acclimating to my new employer’s lifestyle. I have no complaints for the free food and board that comes with it, but having this much time to myself still feels strange. I’m afraid spending most of my waking hours standing in the corner in the Ninth Circle has something to do with it.

Percy saunters over and calls my attention, a book in hand. “Hey. I thought you might like this book, Charon,” she tells me, handing it over. The cover is faded and the paper is yellowed, but it’s intact. There’s a dog- _a wolf?_ \- on the cover, and its coat pattern looks similar to Dogmeat’s. I found it interesting, but to be truthful…

“Thank you, miss. Unfortunately, I cannot comprehend this book.”

“What do you mean? This book is in English so...”

I hesitated on whether I should tell her or not. Wastelanders never knew how to read or write, but I was born before the bombs fell. Granted, the circumstances robbed me of the opportunity to learn, but shame grows at the pit of my belly. I felt pretty damn stupid.

“I barely remember how to read, miss.”

“Oh. That’s fine, I can read to you and teach-” Percy stops mid sentence and has a look of surprise on her face. “-wait, how do you know the contents of your contract then?”

The itch in my brain returns, but I am too exhausted to entertain it. The nightmare took a toll on me. “It was taught to me. Please, don’t ask.”

My mistress nods, taking the book from my hand. “Okay. Do you want me to read to you?”

“If the miss wishes to,” I tell her, but she shakes her head.

“I’m asking if _you_ want to, big guy,” said my mistress, a smile on her face.

It wasn’t unkind.

It’s warm, like the ones she gave me when she used to come by in the Ninth Circle. When did an employer care for what I want? I’m still learning to trust this girl, but how can I say no to a good thing?

“Yes.”

Percy’s smile turns into a grin, her too white teeth gleaming. I think I’ll never be used to how healthy the mistress looks compared to the other denizens of the wasteland. She scoots closer, the dog nestled between us, and opens the book.

“Chapter one, ‘The Trail of the Meat’,” she starts. “ _Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway…_ ”

??? ??, ????

I feel the warmth of another person beneath me. A whisper tickles what’s left of my ear, voice familiar.

“Please.”

It’s Percy’s.

There’s desperation in her voice, and I get on my hands and knees to look at her. Face flushed and glasses fogging, she looks me in the eye, with an expression similar to the ones I see on the women in the skin mag she found in the scrapyard. She’s dressed in that stupid blue jumpsuit, and I grab the zipper and undo it, dragging slowly. Underneath, she wears her shirt and boyshorts, the fabric sticking to her sweat-drenched body.

Head thrown back, her pale throat is exposed. I lean in to swipe at a bead of sweat with my tongue, my ruined mouth dragging against the skin on her neck. The mistress’ skin is as soft as I imagined. My hands scrambled for purchase, squeezing her breasts, rough fingers slipping beneath her shirt, pinching her hard nipples. I latch on to one, and she sighs softly, small hands grasping what’s left of my hair.

“ _Please._ ”

I stop, on my hands and knees once more, and my hands move lower, grasping her shorts and peeling it from her hips, ruined fingers touching her in places I have no right to. She leans in and kisses my ruined cheek, before slipping her tongue in my mouth.

“Charon, please,” she begs, breaking the kiss and bucking her hips against me.

I kneel between her legs, ready to service my mistress.

“Charon…”

I want her to never stop saying my name.

September 24, 2277.

I jerk awake, an uncomfortable pressure between my legs, and I look down, cursing myself. I’m too fucking old for wet dreams. Suddenly having a nightmare seems more preferable. Of all the dreams I can have, why that, and why her?

I hear a gentle knock and Percy’s voice from outside the door.

Dammit.

“Charon?” she calls again. I scramble to find my pants, do my best to conceal the hard-on I have, and hope she doesn’t notice it.

I open the door, and Percy stands there. I can no longer stop myself from looking at her. Droplets of water are dripping from her hair, down her neck, and to her sleeveless white undershirt. She wears her vault suit with its sleeves tied around her waist. The thin, wet fabric of her undershirt reminded me of the dream I had and I felt myself twitch at the sight of her.

“Miss. What do you need?”

“Lunch is ready,” she tells me, and I nod. She turns around and descends down the stairs, and I follow her, eyes trailing down her spine, to the curve of her ass, to her legs. The guilt settles in and I look away, even if she doesn’t know where I’m looking. It felt dirty, ogling the kid who’s offering me a roof over my head.

We eat our meal in peace like before, and Dogmeat lies on my lap while I sit on the couch. After fifteen fucking years of standing in that corner, I will take every opportunity I can to sit. I pet the dog’s head until he falls asleep, the rise and fall of his breaths slowing down. The mistress sits on the other side of the couch, sipping a Nuka, legs raised to the backrest.

“Looks like the two of you had taken a liking to each other,” said Percy, that smile on her face again. I felt the corner of my mouth tug upward, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

“What about me, Charon? Do you... like me?”

My head whips to my mistress’ direction, and she must’ve seen the look on my face for her to let out an awkward laugh. “Seeing how you didn’t hesitate to put down Ahzrukhal, I hope I’m earning your trust and not doing anything to earn that treatment,” the mistress explains.

When Percy clarified what she meant by the question, I felt somewhat relieved. I’m not blind nor numb; she _is_ attractive, even when I’m more used to the sight of ghoulettes. My body’s reaction to her says it all. I thought she was on to me, and I was terrified for a moment. Not a lot of things terrify me.

I have no reason to let her know about that, and I hope the mistress never asks. This new employer is treating me so well, I’m afraid her finding out about the physical attraction I felt for her will result in the sale of my contract.

“Yes, I do like you, miss. Your treatment of other people and I is much more preferable than Ahzrukhal’s,” I tell her, and she gives me a sigh of relief.

“Great! Great, _ahem-_ that’s good to hear. Very reassuring,” she mumbles, a nervous crack in her voice.

“Percy, is there something bothering you?” I ask her.

“Oh, me? I- I guess I’m just a little worried,” Percy stutters, averting her eyes from me. “I mean, you are the first person I’ve travelled with since I got out of the vault. I have friends here in Megaton, sure, but never someone who’d watch my back while I look for Dad. Then you came along. I’m still learning to trust you, and I hope you’ll trust in me too.”

“Your worry is not necessary, miss. The contract entitles you my absolute loyalty.”

“Loyalty is different from trust, Charon,” said Percy. “It’s the difference between you unflinchingly following Ahzrukhal’s orders to fuck someone up, and letting yourself be vulnerable to me so I can patch you up, if that makes any sense.”

I raise a brow, curious. “Please explain further.”

Percy gets off the couch and paces around. “Okay. Remember how you stood down when I asked you to, when Barrows and the others pointed their guns at us?” she asks.

I nod at her, and she sits back down. “I’ve been reading your contract. It says that you were to remove all immediate threats to my safety, and yet, you listened to me and let me talk them down.”

“I merely listened to your orders, miss.”

“But it says on your contract that you can refuse to entertain orders or requests that can cause harm to your employer or to yourself, correct?” Percy asks again, to which I nod. “Well, you must have trusted my judgment enough to entertain my request to stand down even when there’s an immediate threat to both of us.”

I'm getting impatient in trying to find the meaning behind my mistress’ words. “Miss, where are you going with this conversation?”

“Straight to the point, aren’t you? I wish I can talk like that,” Percy mumbles, an embarrassed look on her face while she palms at the back of her neck.

“Charon, I want you to trust my decisions not just because I am your employer, but because you think it’s sound,” Percy tells me. “At the same time, if you think something I do will compromise us, I want you to speak up.”

Pondering on her words, I finally look her in the eye. “So, you want me to question you if you think that your decisions would endanger us?”

“Yes, precisely that. I told you that you’re open to make suggestions and ask questions, right? I meant that I trust your input and opinions. So, if you have tactical advice, observations, or comments, you’re free to make them,” Percy replies.

“I understand now, miss. However, I don’t see how my input is of any value.”

“Hmm, I’m just a nineteen year-old girl who got lucky that the wasteland didn’t kill me the first month I spent outside the vault,” Percy replies. Hearing that she’s older than eighteen made me breathe more freely for some damn reason, but it also reminded me of her youth and how old I am in comparison. My mind pulls me back to my darker thoughts about her, and I felt disgust for myself.

“Sure, I know how to set broken bones, sneak around, and hack computers, but you? You’ve got more combat and survival experience than me. Hell, I would’ve been blown to bits if you didn’t tackle me when that Super Mutant threw the grenade. There was probably an oversight in my tactics for you to get hurt like that,” Percy continues. She looks… guilty.

“You’ve been around for more than 200 years. Surely there’s something in your wisdom that will help us,” she adds, a sheepish smile on her face.

“ _Charming._ Very well, miss. I shall consider it as a standing order, and endeavor to provide my insight when necessary.”

“Thank you. I’m glad we had this conversation, Charon,” my mistress replies.

The afternoon went by slowly. While I spent my afternoon servicing my shotgun, Percy tinkers with a bunch of fission batteries. Soon, it was nightfall, and my mistress took me to the Brass Lantern for dinner, too tired to cook after an afternoon of work.

On my last bite of noodles, Percy turns to me. “Hey Charon, wanna grab something to drink?”

“There is nothing in the contract that prohibits me from accepting food and drink from my employer. So, yes.”

“Well then. Off to Gob’s saloon we go.”

I follow her through the rickety metal scaffolding that leads to the establishment, and the dog follows behind me. As soon as she breezes through the door, a woman with short red hair and a ghoul behind the bar counter stop whatever they’re doing.

“Well hello, Miss Dangerous,” the woman greets, smirking. Percy walks over to give her a hug. “Nice to see you, Nova. Hey Gob,” Percy greets, turning to the ghoul.

“Hey kid. I heard you were back in town, it’s good to see you in here again. We’re having a slow night,” Gob rasps, cleaning the bar top with a rag.

“I made new friends,” Percy tells them, and gestures to me and the dog. “Gob and Nova, meet Charon and Dogmeat.”

There’s a flash of recognition in Gob’s face, and his shoulders droops, cowering. “Holy shit. Charon?”

“Oh right! You’re from Underworld too,” Percy comments, taking a seat near the radio. “You two are familiar with each other, Charon?”

“I cannot remember, miss,” I tell her, brain itching. I was thinking long and hard when the other ghoul speaks up.

“I-I uh, remember when I told you that Moriarty bought me from slavers fifteen years ago? Charon was with them.”

Fuck. I remember now. My mistress turns to me with an expression that I can only describe as horror.

_“You were a slaver?”_

The venom in my mistress' voice terrifies me, and I am not easily terrified.

“They held my contract, miss. Then, they sold it to Ahzrukhal.”

Percy’s face softens. The tension from her shoulders melt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.” Then, the soft look on her face gets replaced with a worried one. “My God, they used you to capture slaves?”

“...yes.”

Tense silence.

“Hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up. Didn’t mean to dredge up the past,” Gob finally breaks it, fetching scotch from the liquor shelf behind him. “The regular, kid?”

“Yeah,” Percy replies, exhaling shakily. “Well, at least I’m holding his contract now. He won’t have to do that shit anymore.”

The corner of my mouth tugs upwards again and I hope she didn’t see it.

“Can I get you anything?” Gob asks me.

“Beer.”

I settle beside Percy, who’s already downing her shot of scotch. Gob hands me my beer and I take a swig.

Nova sits beside my mistress. “C'mon, let’s have some fun.”


	11. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of past non-con

September 24, 2277

“What kind of fun are we talking about, Nova?” Percy asks the redhead, a look in her eye that I can only describe as mischievous.

“I’m thinking of a game, honey. Let’s get the boys involved too,” Nova said. “It’s a slow night anyway. Think we can close up early, Gob?”

“Huh? Uh sure! Anything for you, Nova,” replies the other ghoul. The way he hangs on the smoothskin’s word says it all. Poor bastard.

“I think I have a deck of cards upstairs. Say… strip poker?” Nova suggests.

I almost spat out my drink.

Gob, standing right across me behind the bar, rubs his face. Percy tilts her head at Nova, looking clueless as hell.

“What’s strip poker?”

“Miss, do you know what poker is?” I ask her, and she shakes her head. “Then you would not like strip poker.”

Nova laughs and pats my mistress in the back. “Aw, you’re no fun,” she says to me, and Percy raises an eyebrow.

“What _is_ strip poker?” Percy insists on asking.

“Regular poker is a game where players bet that they have the highest ranking card. Strip poker is just the same thing, but you have to remove a piece of clothing if you lose the round,” Gob explains through his teeth. “Charon’s right, smoothskin. It would suck for a beginner like you.”

“Trying to get me out of my clothes, Nova? I thought you weren’t into girls,” Percy giggles, and Nova throws her head back and laughs. “Just curious, hon. Ever since you got Moriarty out of the picture, I stopped the side business. Never thought that I’d miss getting touched so soon.”

The mistress looks at Gob, a knowing look on her face. Then, she turns to Nova. “Hey, I’m sure there’s a lot of people here on Megaton who’d like to get with you.”

Well. Percy noticed it too, huh?

“Uh, Nova? Percy? The game?” Gob interrupts nervously, and the women laugh together. “Right, right. Care to suggest anything, Percy? Any games you played in the vault?”

“Well, there are some… how about ‘Never Have I Ever’?”

“How do you play?”

“Well, you say something that you haven’t done in your life before, then other players will have to take a shot if they have. If no one takes a shot, the person who asked the question needs to drink theirs,” explains the mistress, to which Nova smirked.

“A drinking game where we get to know each other? I like it! C’mon boys, I’ll get the shot glasses ready.”

“I am not participating,” I tell her, and my mistress’ shoulders sag. “Aw, why not?”

“If you get too intoxicated, miss, I would have to haul your sorry ass back home.”

Percy blurts out a shocked laugh at my choice of words. “Seriously, big guy? We’re in Megaton anyway, and not like there are other patrons in the bar that can hurt me. C’mon, play with us, _please?”_

 _Please._ Damn that fucking word.

“Fine, fine,” I grumble, and Percy throws her hands in the air with excitement and I am reminded that she’s still a teenager.

“Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun! Okay, who wants to go first?”

A month earlier, I would’ve called whoever told me that some smoothskin angel from a vault would come take my contract from Ahzrukhal, treat me like an actual person instead of a guard dog, and play drinking games with me crazy. Now, she’s leaning against my shoulder, cheeks red, and laughing hard.

“Oh come on, it was just one time! And it’s Moriarty’s fault for yelling at me! Not like the customers would have smelled it through the rot, anyway.”

“You still shit your pants, Gob,” Nova half-cackled, half-slurred.

Percy’s covering her mouth, trying to stop herself from laughing. “I’m so sorry, Gob. I feel bad for laughing because it’s Moriarty’s fault but the way you told the story is still fucking- HAHAHAHA!”

I wasn’t laughing, but I snorted. Man, this poor guy never catches a break, doesn’t he?

“I’ll let you laugh because you’re the one who got me out of my misery, friend,” Gob mumbles to Percy, nursing his empty shot glass in his hand.

“Okay. Next round. Your turn, Gob.”

“Hmmmm. Never have I ever killed someone I knew personally,” said Gob. Percy groans loud and takes a shot. I take mine too.

“Well, looks like you’ve found your match, Miss Dangerous,” Nova comments, nursing her full glass. “Charon, was it? If you wouldn’t mind me asking, who’d you kill?”

“Ahzrukhal,” I tell them, and Gob’s eyes widened.

“Who’s Ahzrukhal?” Nova asks.

“My previous employer, before Percy. He was an evil bastard.”

“When I got captured by slavers all those years ago, I overheard one of them talking that Ahzrukhal tipped them off,” Gob murmured. “I never trusted him. My mother told me to stay away from his bar.”

“Now I see why Percy’s your friend. You both got something against bastard bartenders huh?” Nova jokes, and my mistress quietly laughs.

“Two peas in a pod,” said Percy. “I guess we hate bastards who hurt and take advantage of defenseless people.”

Damn right, we do.

“What about you, hon? Who did you kill?”

“Stevie Mack. A guy from the vault I grew up in,” said Percy, leaning over the bar top. “He killed my friend, Jonas. Then, I saw that he was about to hurt my best friend Amata. I just lost it. Beat his head with a baseball bat until it was nothing but a bloody pulp, just like how I did to Moriarty.”

Nova let out a low whistle. “Damn, Percy.”

Gob clears his throat, and scratches what’s left of the skin on his head. “Damn. Leeeet’s just lighten up a bit. Sorry.”

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for, Gob. Besides, talking about it helps,” Percy reassures the other ghoul, smiling.

“Your turn, kid,” Gob cheers, pouring scotch in Percy’s shot glass.

“Hmmm… uhhh… never have I ever had vaginal sex,” Percy slurs, red on her cheeks going even deeper.

Goddammit. I’m reminded of that fucking dream and how wrong it was. Hearing that she’s a virgin somehow made it worse. The last thing I want is to have those thoughts about her while my inhibitions are down. Stupid fucking dick of mine twitched again. Sometimes I wish I _wasn’t_ intact.

I remember what Ahzrukhal threatened her with and felt like throwing up my dinner. To hurt a good person like _that..._

“You make it sound so medical,” Nova laughs, taking a shot. “Are you serious? Never did it with anyone in the vault?”

“Y-yeah! Birth control is hard to come by in the vault, so I-I never risked it,” Percy stutters. Her face is ever redder than the baseball hat she wore when I first met her.

Gob takes a shot. I take a shot. Then, Percy looked at me with a surprised look on her face.

“You seem surprised that Mr. Tall, Dark and Scary here took a shot too,” Nova croons, and Percy folds her fingers together. “Hey, depending on whether he’s pre-war or not, he probably has a lot of experience under his sleeve.”

“Uh, Nova, I don’t think we should press him further about his sex life… Charon’s a private person, you see,” Percy replies to her, nervous, knuckles white as she pressed them against her lap. Nova pays her no heed. “Hey, guy as big as him, he probably had some ladies coming on to him when he still had skin.”

“I am not answering that,” I tell her firmly.

“C’mon, we’re all friends here, don’t be shy,” Nova insists, slurring and waving the bottle of scotch around. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.

“Nova…” Gob warns her weakly, taking the bottle from her hands.

Nova ignores both Percy and Gob, and continues to push.

I have lost my patience.

“Fine, you want to know? When I still had skin,” I slurred, looking Nova in the eye. “Employers would let me see prostitutes for fun. I never needed it, but if it stops me from remembering that I’m nothing but a living weapon to them, I’d take it. Some employers used my contract as an excuse to use me for their urges too. With or without my skin.”

Everyone was dead silent. Percy is pale as a ghost.

“I’m done playing,” I grunted, looking away from everyone.

Percy lets out a groan. “This isn’t the first impression I wanted you guys to have on each other, sorry. Mmmaybe we should’ve played a different game. One that doesn’t involve things that are so… personal.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Nova stutters, stunned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Whatever,” I grunted, taking another beer.

“Okay, new rule, no pushing others to share unless they want to,” the mistress tells the other woman, and she nods. Gob just quietly refills everyone’s shot glasses except mine. I just nursed my beer and fucking sat there, wishing this night was over.

“Right. Okay, my turn,” Nova replies.

“Hmmmm… never had I ever been in a serious relationship before.”

Percy takes a shot.

“So, do you want to talk about it or…”

“Yeah, sure. I needed to get some things off my chest anyway. There was this guy in the vault named Butch…”

I can’t help but listen. I shouldn’t be listening to a teenager’s woes about her boyfriend, but here I was.

“Right, so, he was the vault bully. Ran a gang called the Tunnel Snakes. I know, not the catchiest name,” she starts. I can’t help but snort. What kind of fucking dumbshit name is “Tunnel Snakes?”

“I was heartbroken when Amata rejected me. Had a crush on her since we were kids. She’s the Overseer’s daughter, you see. The Overseer’s sort of like the vault president or whatever. And Amata’s the by-the-book type. She eventually admitted that she had feelings for me too, but the vault placed a lot of value on reproducing. So… yeah. A girl with a girl was out of the question.”

Nova starts leaning in, and so did Gob, listening to my mistress intently.

“Hey don’t get me wrong, I liked boys too, and I wouldn’t have dated Butch if I didn’t. But that’s besides the point. The night Amata rejected me, Butch and I were finally forced to sit down and talk because of some stupid game. Then, one of his gang members started to feel sick because he took alcohol with his medicine. I helped him, and Butch and I grew closer since that night,” Percy tells us. I didn’t notice that I was leaning towards her now, too.

“So, yeah. We started dating shortly after. Amata started to become distant because I changed and I started hanging with Butch more. But then I found out that Butch was still seeing his on-and-off girlfriend, Susie. Made him choose. He chose Susie,” the mistress continues, voice cracking.

“God, what an ass,” Nova comments.

“It gets worse,” said Percy. “I blamed myself the entire time, thought that maybe if I gave in and just let him fuck me already, he would’ve stayed. Then, I found out that all this time, the Tunnel Snakes were the Overseer’s puppet. All this time, he got close to me so he could dig dirt on me. The Overseer wanted to use whatever info he got from them to make Amata stay away. Crazy, huh?”

Wow. What an ass, indeed.

“His loss, smoothskin,” Gob comments. “I don’t know why anyone would turn a nice and pretty girl like you down.”

“Thanks for trying to make me feel better, Gob, but, I’m... complicated,” Percy blushes, looking down on her thighs. “I have some trust issues to work through, and it would be unfair to expect Butch to hold my hand as I go through them, y’know?”

“We all have issues,” I finally speak up. All of them look at me.

“It’s not an excuse to break a damn angel’s heart.”

Damn it. Did I say that out loud? Hopefully the mistress forgets about it the next morning, because she’s looking at me with wide eyes, and her friends are giving each other looks, too.

“R-right! Whose turn is it?” Gob stammers.

Thank fuck.

September 25, 2277

It’s around two in the morning when the mistress finished her game. She had too many shots of scotch, almost stumbling off the railings when she barreled through the saloon door to throw up. I managed to grab her undershirt to steady her before any accidents happened. I feel sorry for the unfortunate fuck screaming below that got splashed with her vomit.

“H-hey, take care of our Percy, hon,” Nova slurs, leaning against the doorframe. Gob was supporting her and is giving me a dopey smile, wobbling, almost as wasted.

“Oh man, careful on the way down. I’ve seen way too many drunks fall over,” said the other ghoul. I grunted and carried the mistress on my back, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders. The dog follows us close by.

Halfway through the way home, she’s slurring and breathing in my ear.

I just brushed it off.

As we arrived home, Percy asked me to put her down near the sink, where she strips out of her clothes. I turned around and faced the wall, hearing her splash the water against her face and drag a rag against her body.

Without saying a word, I go upstairs to get her a new pair of shorts and a shirt. I never noticed how small she really is until I’ve held her change of clothes in my hands. When I got back, Dogmeat was at her feet as she sat on her dirty jumpsuit on the floor, her back turned towards me, and curled into a ball.

“Miss, I got you a change of clothes.”

“T-thank you. I can dress myself,” she mumbles. I wait on the couch as she gets dressed, and I hear the fridge door open and close. She sits next to me, sipping on a bottle of purified water.

“Hey,” she whispers.

I don’t look at her.

“I’m sorry for tonight. God, I just wanted to get to know y-you better and I- you- damn, I fucked up real bad didn’t I?”

I finally look at her. There’s still sick on the edge of her mouth and her nose is dripping. Damn, is she crying?

Grumbling, I stand to fetch the rag, washing and wringing it in the sink. I’m not a damn babysitter, I’m a mercenary. So why the hell am I wiping down this girl’s face while she stammered and sobbed?

“I shouldn’t have forced you to play the game. I’m really sorry Charon,” said the mistress, and I fought the urge to groan.

“I agreed to participate, miss.”

“B-but you- that thing you said about-”

“Shh. Sleep it off.”

“Mmm. Okay. I’m still very sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Percy.”

“Stay with me?”

I let myself stay.


	12. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of past non-con, mention of suicide, mentions of abuse of power by law enforcement.
> 
> Jesus, this is another heavy chapter.

December 27, 2277.

So, this is Percy’s childhood home.

She takes slow, measured steps and stops to take in the sights. Crude graffiti is scribbled on the vault’s walls, trash is heaped in a corner, and radroaches skittered on the floor. Even the dog is cautious, ears flattened against his head.

“I don’t like the look of this place,” I tell her, and she doesn’t look at me, her eyes blank.

“Me neither. What the _fuck_ happened here?”

I hear movement from an adjacent door and whip out my shotgun in anticipation. Percy holds her rifle, too. A man old enough to be Percy’s father comes into view, wearing riot gear over his vault suit, and my mistress lowers her weapon.

“Officer Gomez?”

“ _Sephy_? It’s you!”

“ _Percy,_ Officer.”

Sephy, huh? A childhood nickname?

“Right, I’m sorry. Never got used to calling you that. I can hardly recog- oh my God, stay back!”

Gomez aims his 10 mm pistol at me. I hold his gaze and point my shotgun back, a silent challenge daring him to shoot. There’s fear and disgust in his eyes. My mistress gets in between us and lowers the officer’s gun with one hand. “Relax, officer. He’s with me.”

“What is _that_?” He puts his gun away, wide-eyed and gawking at me with no attempts to hide it. I half-expected him to shit his pants.

_“What?”_

The aggressive edge in my mistress’ voice surfaces. It only comes out in certain circumstances: when she’s in combat, or when she’s angry.

“It’s ‘who is he’, not ‘what is that’, sir. The radiation changed him, but he’s a person.”

She had used that tone and said the same thing when the residents of Tenpenny Tower made comments about my presence. They do not affect me, but Percy’s conviction is admirable.

“Are- do all the folks outside look like him?”

“Well, I still have my skin, don’t I?” Percy’s patience is wearing thin. “I’d explain, but I didn’t come back here to give the vault a science lesson. I got Amata’s message.”

“Amata’s message? You best keep that under your hat for her sake, Percy. The Overseer put the vault in martial law after that night. When James left, all hell broke loose.”

At the mention of James, tears were threatening to spill out of Percy’s eyes again, but I watched her blink them away. “I’m sure Dad would’ve been appalled… if he was still alive. He died. Today.”

Gomez’ face softened at what Percy said. “I’m sorry. Your dad is a good friend.”

“I appreciate it. Now, what happened after we left?”

“When James opened the door, the bugs came in and people went crazy. A lot of them died in the confusion.”

Percy’s shoulders tenses. At this point, I know her well enough to know that when that happens, she’s furious, but she’s holding it in.

“In the confusion… _right_. Jonas had his skull fucking caved in, officer. Stevie Mack murdered him. That’s not something people do out of confusion,” Percy hisses. “I went after the man who held the baton but not who ordered the kill. Damn big mistake. Who knows? I might correct it today.”

“Don’t do anything rash, Se- _Percy_ ,” Gomez warns, but there wasn’t any animosity in his voice. “I owe you my son’s life. Your family has been good to us. I don’t want any harm to come to you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that I brought my friend Charon with me, right? Now please, lead me to Amata, sir.”

Friend. I remember the first time Percy referred to me as such, in Megaton. Something still stirs in my chest whenever she does.

The mistress and I followed the officer, and halted when we saw an older one almost shoot a boy around her age. He’s wearing a jacket with an embroidered snake on the back. Percy wears the same thing occasionally when we’re stopping to rest in Megaton. There’s visible worry on Gomez’ face, and from what the kid looked like, he’s probably the son he was talking about.

We pressed on, and Gomez went back to his patrol. Percy’s brow is knitted the entire time. Determined. Or furious. I can’t put my finger on it, but that tenseness in her shoulders that she carries is still present.

Around the corner, a kid in the same leather jacket with a switchblade in hand comes into our view. I whip out my shotgun, just to be cautious.

“Holy shit, Perce? Damn, who decided to come waltz back into the vault,” he said.

My mistress pulls him towards her and pats his back. “The one and only. Happy birthday, moron.”

“Whatever, nerd. If you wanna surprise me, help me get outta this- **_gah fuck what the hell is that?!”_**

Great. More chickenshit vault dwellers.

“ _He_ is a ghoul. Butch, meet Charon. He’s my new boyfriend.”

Fuck. I’m smirking. If it’s at Percy’s joke or the slack-jawed reaction from this loud greaser asshole, it doesn’t matter.

“You-you can’t be serious,” said Butch. The incredulous look on his face sealed the deal. I snorted. Percy gives him a shrug.

“You can’t be really replacing me with a zombie!”

Percy punched him in the face. At that point I was snickering.

“When the hell had we been serious with each other, DeLoria?”

My mind wanders back to the night Percy talked about him during our game in Gob’s saloon. I’m getting dragged into teenage drama. Great. I’m too old for this bullshit. It makes me wonder, would I have experienced that too if I didn’t...

“Charon, meet my ex. Get acquainted.”

My mistress interrupted my thoughts and they went as soon as they came. She brushed past DeLoria, and the greaser kid looked at me and puffed out his chest, sizing me up. Idiot’s obviously trying to be a tough guy. That stupid fucking pompadour with way too much pomade and the leather jacket gives it away.

“Don’t fuck with Charon, Butch,” Percy said without looking back. “He can throw harder punches than me.”

When we arrived near the clinic, a few more residents expressed their fear of me. Percy was quick to shut them down. Then, when we arrived, another kid her age ran over to give her an embrace.

“Percy! I can’t believe you’re back,” she cries, and my mistress pats her in the back.

“It’s good to see you, Amata.”

I stood in the corner while they talked. Dogmeat sat next to me. The greaser kid never took his eyes off of me, save for when he’s looking at the dog. Some of the other kids Percy’s age cautiously came closer to look at me, or to pet the dog, or just to stare.

I told every single one of them to go away except for the old lady who offered me a sweetroll.

“What? Percy, no! You can’t kill him. Please. I know he did a lot of terrible things. Jonas was my friend too. But he is my father. He’s all I have,” I heard Amata exclaim. Her conversation with the mistress is getting heated.

“I loved Jonas! And your father had him killed because he’s my dad’s friend!”

I shouldn’t be listening to their conversation, but they’re damn loud. Even the DeLoria kid seems to think so, shifting uncomfortably in his spot. The Overseer’s daughter shut up.

“Amata, seriously, why shouldn’t I? Aside from killing our friend, he lied to all of us about the vault being closed forever. He covered up all that shit Stevie did to me too.”

What’s left of my ears perked because of the last thing she said. Wasn’t that the same guy she killed with a baseball bat? _What else did he do?_

“Now, he declared martial law in the vault just because my dad gave everyone the idea that we can survive outside the vault.”

“Please, Percy, think about this. How did you feel when _your_ father died?”

The glare Percy is giving the other girl tells me it’s time to stand by her side.

“Don’t you fucking use my father’s death to guilt me into sparing yours, Amata.”

“I’m not trying to guilt you! Just, please, Percy. Killing him will hurt me. He’s the only family I have left. You resolved problems without the use of violence before. Can’t you do this for me?” Amata pleads, touching my mistress’ arm.

She violently jerks it off.

“It’s always what people can do for you, isn’t it Amata? It’s always been like that in this fucking vault. The outside isn’t that much different either. Can’t you all just fucking solve your own problems?!”

Percy’s voice rang through the room. None dared to make a sound. Even the dog is terrified.

“But, you came back. You s-still care,” Amata croaks, barely a whisper.

“Fine, fine! I’ll talk to your father. But I’m not making any promises.”

“I can take you to him,” DeLoria volunteers.

Quiet as the dead, we followed him, and passed by a cafeteria. There, another boy their age recognizes my mistress, and yells.

“Hey! Zhou! You killed my brother, you goddamn murderer!”

He charged to my mistress and I keep her behind me to protect her, while Butch tries to get the other boy to calm down.

“Your brother got what he damn deserves, Wally. Now calm the hell down before I break you too.”

“You asshole! You and your father! So many people died because of the two of you! You shoulda seen my pop, he saved so many people from the radroaches that night. But you wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a hero for a dad, wouldn’t you, _Sephy_?” he sneered. I fucking wanted to wipe it off his face with my fist.

But I didn’t have to. Something inside my mistress broke.

Faster than Butch can stop her, she lunged at Wally, movements methodical. Percy grabs the boy by the collar, sweeps her foot to catch him off guard, and slams him against the wall, his head thudding against the metal. Damn. This lady is a killer even without her high-powered rifle.

Butch is yelling, trying to get her to calm down, but I held him back and gave him a meaningful look. He stopped and stood like a stone beside me.

 _“Do not fucking call me that._ Listen here, you piece of shit,” Percy calmly sneers, looking Wally in the eyes. “My father died protecting me, and the project of his dreams that aimed to give fresh, clean, water to the entire fucking wasteland. Maybe he’s no hero, but he isn’t a monster like yours, who convinced the Overseer to cover up his poor boy Stevie’s crime of touching little Sephy, the doc’s quiet and _underage_ daughter.”

_Christ._

DeLoria looks like he’s about to faint. The dog is licking his hand to offer him support. My fist is closed, knuckles almost popping from the tension. Her reaction to the recording of Ahzrukhal’s threats and her lack of remorse for killing Stevie carried more weight now. How long was she carrying that hurt by herself?

“Did jack shit. Everyone eventually knew three years later, with your ex-gang members’ help. But Stevie still stayed in security, didn’t he? Gotta fucking love that nepotism. And everyone else either started to think of me as a slut or treat me like I was made of glass. Either way, they thought I was damaged. Maybe I am.”

The mistress takes out a knife. Butch tries to step in again, but Percy’s grip on the other boy was iron. She presses it against Wally’s neck. Here we fucking go.

“You wanna know why I suddenly could take on bullies bigger than me during senior dance? Because meek little Sephy died, and Percy started to learn what she can to protect herself. I blamed myself for letting that happen to me, and I realized too late that I should be directing all that anger to my abuser instead of myself. What I did to Stevie is a fraction of all the fucking fear and self-loathing he made me go through. I wanted to die. Inject myself with all the Med-X dad kept in his clinic. Hang myself with my jumpsuit belt. I fantasized for _years.”_

Crimson droplets started to form around the knife’s edge. Wally’s whimpering like a damn pig and sweating, back pressed against the wall. It was satisfying to watch.

“Him killing Jonas was the last straw. I saw him for what he is. A monster. It wasn’t my fault. It’s Stevie’s. I saw the chance to kill him and took it. Felt so damn good. And you know what? I’d love to kill your father too. I’d love to kill you too. I’d fucking kill your entire family of officers and Almodovar loyalists if Susie didn’t become a friend who saw through all that bullshit. But I’m not a monster like Stevie. I’ll only kill people as a last resort. So don’t. Fucking. Push. Me.”

“Jesus Christ, Perce. The wasteland changed you,” DeLoria whispered, standing still next to me.

Like I said, I’m not easily terrified. But seeing my mistress’s wild-eyed anger is always terrifying, even if it's not directed at me. Perhaps it’s because she only ever was gentle with me. But at the same time, I respect her conviction. I’d never thought I’d respect my mistress even more.

The Mack kid was white as chalk when Percy finally let him go. He scrammed. Butch places a hand on her shoulder, and she doesn’t brush it off.

“I’m fine. Take me to the damn Overseer,” she says to Butch.

As we walked to the office, there was crude graffiti on signs. “Thank you Overseer” was vandalized to become “Fuck you Overseer!” Damn, these kids must have hated him so much.

Percy asked us to wait outside, and we waited with bated breath. Even the damn dog did. Fuck, this is taking too long. I wanted to go in there and get her, but the door opened and both of them were unscathed. She hadn’t laid a finger on the old man. Quietly, she steps out and the door behind her closes shut. The Overseer brushes past us.

“He agreed to step down. He’s gonna tell everyone.”

Butch sighs in relief. “Finally! I’ve had enough of that old man. Let’s beat it!”

“Not yet. C’mon, let’s go see Amata.”

We went back to the clinic where Percy’s friends were holed up. The Overseer named his daughter the new one. There is cheering, crying, and celebrating. Amata runs up to Percy and embraces her.

“Thank you! How'd you change his mind?”

“A civil chat about genetics.”

“No way!”

I think back to the too well-fed vault girl I met in early September, whom I thought too innocent and shy. Miles away from the woman before me now, but somehow still the same. The wasteland changed her, but she still carries the same bleeding heart.

A heart that I want to keep safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been one month since I started posting chapters and we're almost at 400 hits. Thank you for reading! Comments are highly appreciated <3


	13. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: I was listening to [Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqSgsq4Bn2c&ab_channel=TheNeighbourhood-Topic) as inspiration for this chapter. It'll probably be the inspiration for the next ones too.
> 
> TW: abuse of power by law enforcement (again)

December 27, 2277.

My mistress’ peers surrounded her and they’re either hugging her or asking her how her life has been since she went out in the wastes. Something stirs in my chest. I feel… happy seeing people care about the mistress. I’m certain that there are people who care for her in the Wasteland; Gob, Nova, Simms, Moira, Three Dog, the kids in Big Town, everyone else she has helped… and me. But there are people who wanted to hurt her too. Here in this vault, she is safe. I won’t be surprised if she decides to stay here after she’s done with her father’s project.

Seeing these teenagers joke around and catch up with each other makes me wonder if I could have experienced that too.

I follow Percy as the other teens her age led her to a jail cell, where they set their former teacher free. He seems proud of them. Percy introduced me to him, Mr. Brotch, and after the initial surprise due to my appearance, he shook my hand. We gathered back in the clinic, where the old lady who gave me a sweetroll held a prayer for James.

Just when I thought the mistress could finally catch a break, Amata drops a bomb on her.

“Percy, on behalf of the vault, I thank you for everything that you’ve done,” she starts, an apologetic tone in her voice.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Percy half sighs, half laughs. “Let me guess, I can’t stay?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry. But there are a lot of people who still blame you for everything that happened.”

There’s a clamor of protest from her peers. “Wait, but Percy saved all of us!” Gomez’ kid interjected. “Yeah, we can’t just kick her out,” a girl spoke up. From her resemblance with Wally, I suppose this one is Susie. “Percy! You can’t just accept that,” another girl interrupts.

“It’s fine, Christine. I can’t say I’m surprised. I always did stir up trouble in the vault, didn’t I?”

Amata laughs, bittersweet. “You shake things up, and often for the better. But the situation is too delicate for you to stay…”

“I know, Amata. Hell, I met Wally earlier. He’s too taken in by your father’s and his father’s lies. No offense.”

“None taken, Percy.”

“Can I go around the vault, one last time?” Percy asks, her voice cracking. I stand close to her, reluctantly placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course.”

And so, I followed the mistress around once more as she explored her home for the last time. I’ve learned her history from the places we went through. The place where she would stash her comic books. The place where her class would sneak off to so they can drink in secret. The place where Stevie hurt her. The place where she would hide and cry. The place where she would practice shooting. I learned so much about the mistress that night.

Our last stop was her and James’ living quarters.

Everyone stopped at the doorway, save for the dog, who still followed her inside. She looks over her shoulder, gesturing for me to follow, and I did. Looking around felt like a violation of her privacy, but then the realization dawned on me. Percy’s sharing this part of herself with me.

My mistress drags her fingers through the surface of a coffee table, dust collecting at her fingertips. “This is where dad used to read his books,” she almost whispers. She moves on to her sleeping quarters, a small room with a bed, a dresser, and a few items lying about. Percy picks up a teddy bear, old and worn with use, a soft expression on her face.

“Mr. Bubbles.”

Percy gives it to Dogmeat, which he happily carries in his mouth. She jumps on the bed, landing face first. “I can’t remember the last time I slept on a soft bed.”

After spending a few minutes on the bed, she finally stood up, shaking the dust off her armor. “Time to grow up, I guess.”

We went back to the clinic and my mistress collected her father’s things, one of which was a picture frame with something written inside. I still have difficulty reading the words, despite my mistress teaching me, but I can read the numbers just fine. 21:6.

A pair of girls her age went to me with apprehension. Christine and Susie.

“Hey, Charon was it?” Susie asks me.

I give her no reply.

“Take care of our friend, won’t you?”

I nod. “It’s what I’m here for.”

The group of teenagers, the old lady, and the teacher accompanied us on the way out. Gomez gives my mistress a nod, taking his place next to his son. The vault door opens, and my mistress takes a step.

“See you on the outside?” Percy tells them.

“One day,” Amata replies. “Goodbye, Percy.”

Percy doesn’t look back. The corners of her eyes are wet.

As soon as we’re out of the trap door, she lets out a sob she’s been holding in for fuck knows how long. And I held her again. I placed a hand behind her head, pressed her to my chest, and she cried.

Dammit.

She doesn’t deserve this. I want to make her feel better. Percy deserves better.

“Percy, remember what I told you earlier?” I speak up, my voice rumbling through my chest.

“Yeah?” she sniffles. A snowflake lands on her hair. It’s getting colder and colder as each day passes.

“I mean it. Contract aside… I’ll stay by your side as long as you will have me.”

“Thank you big guy,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around my waist.

When we broke from the embrace, the mistress looked me in the eyes. “You’re the best thing that happened to me in months, Charon.”

I swallow thickly, preparing myself for what I’m about to say to her.

“...you’re the best thing that happened to my life,” I tell her.

Percy looks at me with wide eyes, filled with… what is this feeling? Whatever it is, I liked it.

“Charon, I…” the mistress stammers, taking my hand in hers. 

We were interrupted by a damn cough.

“Uh… am I interrupting something?” It’s fucking DeLoria. God dammit all.

“Wait, Butch?! What are you doing out here?” Percy asks him, stepping away from me. Dogmeat looks up to me and whines. Even the dog is disappointed.

“I told ya I’m getting out of that hole, didn’t I? Now-”

“You can’t tag along,” my mistress interrupts.

Sometimes, I wish my mistress would be more selfish, because now, this loudmouth greaser is settling on the couch while my mistress is rubbing her face. He’s bunched up in blankets, looking uncomfortable.

“One day, Butch. I help you for one day, and you’re out on your own,” she tells him, sternly, a hand on her hip.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get outta your hair as soon as I can pick myself up. Thanks, Perce,” DeLoria tells her, propping his head up with an arm. “You sure you don’t want me next to you?”

My mistress groans. “ _No._ Now go to sleep. Rivet City’s a long way from here.”

Dogmeat, still holding Percy’s old teddy bear in his mouth, followed us as we went upstairs. I pull Percy aside.

“Percy, are you sure about this?” I ask her. I don’t trust the greaser.

“Yeah. Helping him get to Rivet City won’t hurt. I’m heading there to trade for ammo before we look for Vault 87, anyway,” she tells me.

“But what if he’s just taking advantage of your kindness?”

“What if it works out? Ease up, big guy, Butch is harmless. Compared to what’s after me in the Wasteland, anyway.”

“I just don’t want any harm to come to you, Percy.”

“I know, big guy. But Butch is what’s left of the life I had in the vault. He’s like family now. I can’t just abandon him,” she tells me, placing a small hand on my arm.

A small twinge of guilt blooms in my chest. Right. It’s not even an hour since she was exiled from her home. Of course she’d still be attached to her previous life and the people in it.

“I understand. Good night, Percy.”

“Good night, Charon.”

As I lay on my mattress, my mind wanders to my youth. Seeing where my mistress, no, my _friend_ grew up in made me wonder what it was like when I wasn’t groomed to be the killer that I am yet.

I try to remember what I can.

March 18, 2065.

A little boy was flying to see my aunt on her birthday. I was that boy.

Looking out an airliner window, clouds were breezing by while Mama sewed and Papa was finishing the last of his lunch. I was holding a handmade doll Mama made with me, that I was going to give to my aunt. The sky was still bright and blue, not the ruined, green-tinged one I know today. “Are we there yet?” I asked Mama, impatient. My voice was small. A child’s.

“Patience little one,” Mama tells me. “We’ll be there soon. Excited to see Auntie Katya?”

I nod at her. I can’t even remember my mother’s face and my memory is struggling to fill the gaps. All I know is she had blue eyes, like mine.

“You know, _Artyom_ , we were visiting her when your mama had you,” said Papa. His hair is red like mine. “Your Aunt Katya was there when your mother gave birth. Helped me choose your name, too.”

So _that_ was my name before… before...

“I can’t believe we’re finally back in California after all those years, Ilya. Sometimes I wonder why we stay in Alaska,” Mama said.

“What does California look like, Mama?”

“Hush now, I’ll let you see for yourself when we get there. Get some sleep,” Mama tells me. I remember pouting at her.

“Lullaby, please,” I ask her.

“Oh, fine. Come here, love.”

I settled in my mother’s lap. She’s warm, soft, and smells of baked goods. Like a sweetroll.

“ _Spi mladyenec, moi prekrasniy, bayushki bayu..._ ”

That lullaby always made me feel better. Sadly, I cannot remember the rest of it.

I’m taken back to the present, more than 200 years later, when the dog whines outside my door. I crack it open, and see Dogmeat outside, the teddy bear still in his mouth. I let him in. I lie back down on the mattress and Dogmeat lies next to me, sniffing his new toy before drifting asleep.

Through the thin walls of Percy’s home, I can hear her soft cries and sobs.

It went on for hours.

I can’t take it anymore.

Three months ago, I would’ve scoffed at the idea. I would’ve told myself that I’m a mercenary, not a babysitter. But I want to make my friend Percy feel better.

“Do you think we should get her?” I ask the dog, who was awakened by her sobbing when it started almost two hours ago. Dogmeat licks my face and sits patiently in front of the door, waiting for me to open it.

We quietly step outside my room. I look over the balcony, and Butch was already fast asleep. Good. I knock at my mistress’ door, and after a few seconds of silence, she opens it, her eyes red and raw.

“Hm?”

“I can hear you crying through the walls,” I tell her, holding my breath.

“Oh. I’m sorry-”

“Percy, you have nothing to apologize for. Do you need company?”

“I- yes. I can’t sleep. Stay with me, please?”

Please. I will never grow tired of hearing her say that word.

I step into her bedroom. Her only bedroom now, as far as I’m concerned. There are sheets of paper neatly stacked on the desk, and a repainted tin can holds her pencils. Her bed sheets smell faintly of Abraxo detergent and a human scent, unmistakably Percy’s. I sit on the bed and she immediately huddles into my chest, face pressed against it. I gather the blankets and wrap it around Percy, stroking her hair. I felt like a depraved old man, cuddling down with a nineteen-year old in her bedroom and touching her hair, but my feelings do not matter at the moment. Percy needs all the comfort she can in this shithole world.

Her sobs slowed into soft breaths.

“Better?”

Percy nods. “Thank you.”

“Anything for a friend, Percy.”

She looks up to me. “Friend?...”

“Is that not what you call me? Don’t overthink it.”

Percy nodded and rested her head against my chest. Dogmeat comes over to give Mr. Bubbles back, and she takes the bear, while the dog lies over our legs. We’re a cozy little pile.

I try to remember my mother’s lullaby, but my brain is failing me. I still remember the melody, however.

I start to hum.

Even in her sleep, she’s crying for her father.

Only when Percy settled comfortably did I allow myself to close my eyes.

  
  


??? ??, 2070.

There’s a plate of pancakes on the counter, but I can’t have some yet. I look at my fingers, thin and bony, thumbing the page of a book while I sit in the kitchen. Mama is getting frustrated at me. I’m doing my best to understand what is on the page.

Then, we heard knocking at the door.

Papa is in the living room, so he answers it. I go back to learning how to read, but Mama isn’t looking at the book anymore.

“Artyom, keep reading. I’ll just make sure your Papa’s okay.”

She stands up and leaves me in the kitchen. I didn’t stay put. I hid behind the door frame to spy on them, and I saw two men shoving a piece of paper in my father’s face.

“You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Volkov. Anything you say-” one of them tried to say, but Papa interrupts him.

“This must be a mistake. We are not Reds nor we are harboring Reds-” said my Papa. He was interrupted by the men, who attempted to put him in handcuffs, but Papa is big and strong. He didn’t let them touch him.

“Mr. Volkov, please cooperate. We must investigate all reports that go through our 1800-REPORT-RED Hotline. You’ll be tried in court, and should you be proven a Red supporter or ally, social services will take your child into custody in an attempt to rehabilitate him from any indoctrination you might have-”

Papa pushes one of them.

“Do _not_ touch my son. I am not going. That warrant isn’t even authorized! I am not coming with you over an accusation made by some paranoid idiot who called your damn hotline. Annika, call Katya. She’ll know what to-”

I hear a loud noise and flinch, then Papa falls to the floor.

Mama screams as she falls to her knees to make sure he’s okay. He’s not breathing.

They killed my Papa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: I headcanon Charon to be of Russian descent and I'm not the first one to do so, IIRC. His grandfather was a Russian diplomat in Los Angeles, and his father and aunt moved to the USA along with him as children. I wrote this as a shoutout/homage to one of the possible pre-made player characters in the first Fallout, Natalia Dubrovhsky. Stay tuned to find out how he ended up on the East Coast!
> 
> If we were to follow traditional Russian naming convention (first name + patronymic + surname), his full name would've been Artyom Ilyich Volkov.
> 
> The lullaby Charon's mother sings to him as a boy is called [Cossack Lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJsTB-yB-uk&ab_channel=%D0%9D%D0%B0%D1%82%D0%B0%D0%BB%D1%8C%D1%8F%D0%A4%D0%B0%D1%83%D1%81%D1%82%D0%BE%D0%B2%D0%B0), written by Mikhail Lermontov in 1838.
> 
> Also, Auntie Katya will show up in future stories! -wink-


	14. XII

December 27, 2277.

I jerk awake, disoriented. I look at my hands, and they are no longer a child’s. They’re large, with exposed bone and muscle, and rough.

The dreams are getting more vivid.

On good days, I dream of Percy, the dog, and bits of memories from the past life I had before I was turned into a glorified slave. On bad days, I dream of my previous employers, including Ahzrukhal. On terrible days, I dream of the shit those responsible for the way I am now made me go through.

I guess it’s a terrible day today, then.

Looking around, Percy is no longer at my side, her heat absent, but her scent still lingers. The dog is nowhere to be found too. I go back to my room to get dressed, and as I descend the stairs, I hear conversation from the living room.

“How well do you even know this guy? Seriously Perce...”

DeLoria’s voice.

“Enough to know that I trust him with my life. Why are you interrogating me all of a sudden?”

Percy’s. From the smell coming from the kitchenette, I’m guessing she’s making lunch.

“Percy, you’ve known him for three months tops.”

“Almost _four_ ,” my friend replies, the aggressive edge in her voice surfacing. She is getting agitated.

“That ain’t making it sound any better!”

“Butch, Charon saved my ass countless times already and-”

“Yeah, until you lose his contract.”

Percy goes quiet. She told DeLoria about the contract? Why on earth would she do that?

“He’s muscle for hire, Perce. How can you even say that you can trust him with his life when you barely know him?”

“I _know_ Charon.”

“Oh yeah? Where is he from?” DeLoria challenged. I take a few more silent steps to reach the base of the stairs, and see them. Percy is watching the soup simmer in the pot. The dog is sitting next to Butch on the couch. Various motorcycle parts litter the floor, a pet project Percy’s been working on for months.

“Underworld,” Percy answers him.

“No, I mean where he’s really from. Where was he born? How old is he? When is his birthday? What’s his last name? Is Charon even his real name?”

My mistress- no, my friend’s eyebrows furrowed, face slightly red, and she turns around to answer him. “That is none of your business, DeLoria.”

“Of course it ain’t! But it should be yours. You live with the ghoul,” Butch spat. “See? You can’t even answer me!”

“I’m helping him remember,” Percy spits back, using the soup ladle to point at the greaser. “He’s… _traumatized_ , Butch. I’m the first friend he had in God knows how long,” she tells him, then she goes back to stirring the pot.

Butch scoffs. “So, is that it? You’re trying to fix him like you tried with me?”

Percy’s knuckles are white from gripping the ladle, then it clatters on the stove. “Oh my fucking- I did _not_ try to fix you Butch!” Percy yells as she turns around. She marches towards Butch, and points at the greaser’s chest. “I tried to _empathize_ with you, find out where all that nastiness you had as a kid came from. Then whoop-de-do, we made out in the storage closet in senior dance and you decided I was worth your time-”

“And you tried to control me into becoming the damn goody-two-shoes you are,” DeLoria snaps. “When you decided that you can’t convert me, you asked for a breakup.”

“I never tried to control you Butch. I just asked you to try to be better. And I asked for a break, not a split,” Percy yells, voice breaking.

“I- fuck, it doesn’t matter! You left!” DeLoria gripped Percy by her arms. At that point, when the greaser touched Percy, I was seriously considering intervening, but I probably shouldn’t even be listening to their conversation.

“I knew it. This isn’t about Charon. This is about _us_ ,” Percy seethes, her glasses sliding down the tip of her nose. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, DeLoria.”

“Ha! You can fuck him in front of me and I wouldn’t care,” the greaser yells, letting her go. He’s looking away from Percy and running his hand through his hair.

“Oh, I _knew_ it,” Percy remarks, crossing your arms. “You never change, do you, Butch?”

“Fine! Maybe I am jealous! I’m jealous that you’d rather be travelling with _him_ than me.”

Huh.

The humor of a pretty-boy getting jealous of a ghoul whose half his skin is missing, of all people, because his ex prefers the ghoul’s company isn’t lost on me. It makes me wonder what kind of wrong ideas are in his head about my relationship with Percy. I’m sure that there are some people who had the same ideas. Hell, Nova had been teasing me about her. But this asshole having them takes the cake. A romantic relationship with Percy is out of the question, and whatever I may feel about her is irrelevant.

_Is it?_

What do I even feel about Percy, at this point?

“You have no right to be jealous, Butch. None at all. We are _through_. You are so damn lucky that I let you back into my life as a friend.”

“I want a second chance! Why do you think I wanted to leave the vault in the first place, huh? It’s been miserable without you there, Perce,” DeLoria tells her. “But you’d rather throw away all those years for someone you just knew for months, huh? I thought we had a good thing.”

Percy grabs him by the collar. “If there’s anyone who should be saying that, it should be me. I asked for a break to think about our relationship and what the hell did you do? You _fucked_ Susie!”

Butch grasps Percy’s hands from his collar, swats them, and he pushes her.

Percy’s crying.

Time to step in.

I shield Percy’s frame with mine. The dog runs over and starts barking, checking to see if his mistress is fine. DeLoria backs away, his stance defensive.

“If you lay a finger on her, I’ll be forced to take action,” I tell DeLoria, looking him in the eye.

“Charon! How long have you been there?” Percy yelps, grasping my arm.

“Long enough to hear enough. DeLoria,” I say, finally addressing the greaser by name. I take a step towards him and he takes one back. I almost expected him to cower. “What I am to Percy is not your business. Though I cannot understand why she chose to help you, I will obey her orders. I am here to serve my employer. Whatever bad blood she may have for your sorry ass is not my business. This is all on you.”

“Whatever, freak. Just stay out of my way.”

“You’re the one who is foolish enough to provoke Percy. You provoke her, you provoke _me_.”

“How’s this for a provocation, asshole!” Butch yells as he tries to swing at me, but I was taller, faster, and probably weigh twice as heavy. I dodge the blow, and land one on his jaw. He falls.

“Butch! What the hell did I tell you?! Do _not_ fuck with Charon,” Percy shrieks, rushing over to help him to the sofa. “Charon, what the hell was that? Couldn’t you just restrain him?”

She did not ask me to attack nor was she in danger.

“I am sorry Per- _miss._ I acted on my own accord.”

 _I acted on my own accord_.

Holy shit.

Before I can think about it more, my thoughts are interrupted by Percy gasping and running to turn the stove off. I look over her shoulder. The soup dried up and burned brahmin meat stuck to the bottom of the pot.

There goes our lunch, I guess.

“Fuck!” Percy screams. She takes the pot to the sink and runs it with water.

“I guess we’re not fucking eating. You two, stay put while I pack up and do not fucking kill each other while I do. I want to get to Rivet City by sundown. Understood?!”

“What about my jaw-”

“Stop being a big baby! I swear to God, these past fucking days…” Percy groans as she marches to her bedroom, the makeshift door slamming shut.

I understand now. She’s done this before; masking her hurt with hostility.

Moments of tense silence pass by. I sit on the other end of the sofa, and the dog sits between us, like some sort of barrier.

“This is the worst birthday ever,” DeLoria whines, nursing his swollen jaw. “I turn 20 and I get a knuckle sandwich.”

“You deserve it,” I dared to say back.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m the asshole ex, of course I frickin’ do,” he sighs, and he stands up to look for something to relieve the swelling.

“The wasteland changed her, huh? She barely even knew how to curse back in the vault and now she’s dropping cluster-f bombs left and right,” DeLoria continues, wrapping a handkerchief around a cold bottle of water and pressing it against his face.

“Her father died in front of her, and she was exiled from her home. I say Percy is allowed to curse as much as she wants,” I tell him, and cross my arms.

DeLoria was taken aback. His shoulders sag. “Doc died _in front_ of her?”

“Shouldn’t you be shutting the fuck up when your jaw is broken?” Percy yells from upstairs, her footsteps pounding against the metal staircase.

“See what I mean about the cluster-f bombs?”

Percy strides into the living room, boots in hand, wearing the same jacket DeLoria is wearing and dark jeans. I stand up from the sofa to give her some space to sit, and she puts them on, with thick socks underneath.

“Oh. You kept the jacket.”

“Yeah? It keeps the cold away,” Percy replies as she tucked the fabric of her jeans in the boots. “C’mon. The faster we can get to Rivet City, the better.”

An hour in, the trip’s uneventful, which was a pleasant surprise. DeLoria has mostly been quiet, thank fuck, opting to tinker with his PipBoy’s radio. I am on the watch for Talon Company mercenaries who never seem to give Percy a break. A foolish lot, they are.

The music ends and Three Dog is reporting about our activity on the radio again.

“Hey, out on that ridge! It's Buddha! It's Jesus! No, it's the... Wasteland Avenger! Here's an update on Vault 101's homegrown messiah, and her trusty companion, the Ghoul Reaper.”

Not those monikers again. They sound like shitty superhero names, but not like we can do anything about it. The locals had adapted it too.

“Jesus, he’s not letting it go, isn’t he? Turn that thing off,” Percy sighs as she rips open a box of Fancy Lads, stuffing the pastry in her mouth. 

The more Percy made waves, the more people who wanted her head. Her deeds got the attention of opportunistic bastards who wanted to use her for their own gain, or evil ones who just didn’t like the fact that some teenager is cleaning up the Wasteland. It doesn’t help that the DJ of the only free radio in the entirety of DC upholds her name like she’s some kind of saint.

For those reasons, “Wasteland Avenger” isn’t the only moniker she earned from wastelanders. Some wastelanders prefer to call her the Wasteland Angel. Maybe they’re right. Maybe she is one. It always makes me think back to the day when I accidentally called her angel while drinking in Megaton.

“ _Wasteland Avenger?_ Looks like your goody-two-shoes attitude has gotten you popular, Perce,” DeLoria comments, snorting. “I can’t argue with Ghoul Reaper, though.”

“Zip it. Say anything about Charon, and you’re on your own,” Percy snaps, taking three sticks of bubblegum out of her pocket. She tosses one to me, then to DeLoria.

“Awfully defensive of your boyfriend, huh.”

“No, I’m telling you to shut up for your own good, Butch. Unless you want your right jaw broken too?”

“Fine. Point taken.”

For making DeLoria shut up, I have decided that Percy is indeed an angel. The rest of our journey is filled with peace and quiet.

The plan was to leave DeLoria in Rivet City so he can make a living as a barber since Snowflake’s in Underworld now. I didn’t plan on following Percy to the Muddy Rudder and drinking with the bastard, yet there I was, sipping on my fourth beer.

Percy sits between us, downing a shot of scotch, while the dog sleeps at her feet. Butch is taking a smoke while the barkeep refills his regular whiskey. He fixes up his hair again, eyes wandering to my friend’s.

“I’m sorry about your old man,” he tells Percy, and her head perks up.

“I appreciate it, Butch.”

“Hey, speaking of dads, I finally learned what happened to mine,” Butch continues. “Not that I’m tryin’ to make it all about me, just emphasizing- _empathizing_. Yeah. That’s the word.”

Percy laughs softly. “Thanks for trying. So, what happened to DeLoria senior?”

“Remember how we found out that the vault was sealed when we were babies? Part of what happened to my pops had something to do with it. Overseer had him executed for opposing it.”

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry, Butch.”

“S’fine. I ain’t that beat up about it. But sometimes I think about what my life could’ve been if I wasn’t left with my alcoholic mom. Do you ever think about it, Perce? If you grew up with your mom?”

The question made Percy down two consecutive shots. Damn.

“A lot. I know dad probably would have less trouble with my hair,” Percy laughs, but there was a bittersweet quality to it. Butch pats her in the back and crushes his cigarette in an ash tray.

_Should I tell them about mine?_

I exhaled, breath shaky, as I took out my own pack of cigarettes and lighted one. “My father was killed over an accusation,” I tell them, throwing caution to the wind and letting the alcohol embolden me to talk about the past that I’m still struggling with.

Both of them turn to me, curious. “What happened to him?” Percy asks.

“My parents were accused of being Reds. I was going to be taken away to be reeducated. My father objected to it. I never knew the truth behind it, but the police officer who shot my father already carried out the sentence before any court could.”

“God,” Percy gasps, brushing her arm against mine.

“The government program they put the children of suspected Reds on, is what turned me into the contract-bound mercenary that I am today.”

“I’m sorry, Charon,” Percy tells me.

Butch clears his throat. “Sorry. That’s rough, man.”

Percy straightens all of a sudden. “Hold on a sec. So, are you saying that the United States government that later became the _Enclave_ is responsible for brainwashing you?”

Percy’s right, isn’t she? It adds up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! I forgot to mention this the last time I updated but the fic will be having another hiatus. For the rest of October, I'll be working on a combined comictober/kinktober entry featuring Charon and Percy. It takes place in the same timeline as Absolution, but in the future, after the story is done. I'm doing my best to keep it spoiler free for those who are following this fic.
> 
> I'm currently penciling the 15th page, and hopefully I can publish it by October 31. The comic is a big, visual and very graphic love letter to Charon fuckers, ghoul fuckers, and monster fuckers in general, and I look forward to sharing it with you guys when I'm done with it!


	15. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I'm making good progress on the comic but inspiration hit me hard after I listened to Lana Del Rey's [Cinnamon Girl](https://youtu.be/DCYmJDO2_IE). I got so inspired, I just _had_ to edit the chapter I prepared and publish it immediately. I think that song summarizes Charon and Percy's relationship so far.

December 28, 2277.

“Wait. Enclave? What the hell is an enclave?” Butch asks, brows furrowing.

“In this context, they’re the _other_ group of power-armored assholes running the other radio station with patriotic music, and fancies themselves as _the_ United States of America, though I think they really _are_ what remained of the USA. They’re also the bitches responsible for my dad’s death, so there’s that,” Percy tells him.

“Holy shit,” DeLoria murmurs, throwing back another shot. “Hey hey wait, how do you know that? I didn’t pay much attention to history class but I don’t remember Mr. Brotch mentioning anything about the American government going all psycho with power armor.”

Percy pauses, brow wrinkling. “Dad mentioned something when I was younger, about how some of the history books we study as kids didn’t paint the entire picture, and when we were reunited in the wasteland, at some point when one of his scientists switched to the Enclave radio during dinner, he asked her to turn it off. Said it was run by fascists that came from a failed pre-war government.”

“But how does your old man know about that when the vault was sealed- oh. _Oh right_. The Overseer lied to us.” Butch finally gets it. “Damn.”

“Yeah, and look at where that got us. I always suspected that things weren’t always what it seemed. Plus, the truth slips out of Old Lady Palmer’s mouth whenever she mentions dad “arriving” in the vault. My doubts were confirmed when I looked through Almodovar’s terminal, before I opened the door. There were scouting reports. Pictures of giant ants.”

The bartender serves Percy another shot and she gulps it down before resuming her story. The number of cigarettes in DeLoria’s box is dwindling, and so did mine.

“Then when I got to Megaton, some of the locals knew about the brainwashing stuff, and all the pieces of the puzzle fell in place. Finding out that dad was parroting the Overseer’s propaganda hurt. The worst part is? I haven’t forgiven him before he died.”

“I um… I’m sorry, Perce.”

My friend shrugs at DeLoria. “It is what it is. I miss him already. He’d know what to do. I wish I didn’t argue with him before those assholes...”

A sniff resounded in the mostly empty bar. Soft cries escaped Percy’s lips, tears streaming down her red face. I wanted to offer an arm, a hand, _anything_ , but DeLoria already wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Right. Great. That’s probably for the better. Sticking my non-existent nose in her business is becoming a dangerous habit.

_Last night was probably a mistake._

“Okay, I think you had enough alcohol for the night,” the barkeep announces, and takes the scotch away. “The two of you, make sure she sleeps it off.”

“Hey Butch, you said you were gonna start a new gang, right? May I suggest ‘Our Dads Got Fucking Killed by Fascists’ for the name? We three could be the first members,” Percy slurred in between sobs. How she can find humor in the situation is beyond me.

“Yeah, she’s wasted alright,” Butch mumbles. “Hey, um, I don’t exactly have caps on me yet. Is Perce gonna pay the tab?”

I scoffed, fishing around Percy’s pack to pay off our bill. After tossing a few caps to the old lady, I helped Percy to her feet, and so did DeLoria. It was a struggle. I am a few inches shy of seven feet, DeLoria’s around six, and Percy is just a little taller than five. DeLoria looks at me with a weary smile. The two of us did the best we can to ensure this small girl doesn’t land face-first into the ship’s metal flooring. Us both being inebriated and Dogmeat bumping into us every three seconds did not help. I heard a patron that frequents the bar snicker at the sight of us, a girl about Percy’s age with the shittiest pigtails I’ve ever seen. On a human, anyway.

“Y’know what? Just carry her,” said Butch, rubbing the back of his neck. “This isn’t working. I need to get some shuteye for my first day as a barber tomorrow too. See you two around.”

“Goodnight, Butch,” Percy slurs, half of her ass leaning on a nearby table for support.

I nodded at the greaser and he left the premises, the confidence in his gait replaced with drunk swaying and awkwardness. Gathering our gear, I carried Percy’s pack and weapons on my back, then I swept her off her feet in a bridal carry.

She’s gotten lighter.

“Hey, big guy,” slurs Percy, hiccuping. “You do know that I am _-hic-_ perfectly capable of walking, right?”

“The last time you said that, you almost fell off the boat.” I started heading towards the exit.

My friend sighs, shaking her head in resignation. “I might as well enjoy riding you then.”

I froze in my spot. The girl with the shitty hair snorted her drink and outright laughed at us. I couldn’t bring my eyes to look at Percy but I know that she’s even redder now, and she felt a few degrees warmer in my arms.

She stammers, slightly flailing. “I mean, I might as well enjoy you- **_the ride! I might as well enjoy the ride! Dammit!”_**

“Sleep it off, Percy.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” the bartender barked at us. “Get the fuck out of my bar and go hump each other someplace else. I’m closing shop.”

We left in a hurry.

Percy was breathing softly, seemingly asleep when we arrived in the Weatherly Hotel, the only clean place to sleep on the boat, where we were greeted by the owner and a Mr. Handy. Beside her, the boy we rescued and brought from Grayditch stands up and runs to us.

“Hey! You two came to visit! Whoa, what happened to her? Is she hurt?” the boy exclaims.

“She’s fine, just tired. We need a room.”

“Hi, Bryan,” Percy slurs. She wasn’t asleep after all. “Shouldn’t you be asleep already?”

The owner smiles. “She’s right, Bryan. Off to bed.”

“Aw. Aunt Vera, I wanna hang out with Percy and Charon more.”

“You can do that tomorrow when Percy is feeling better,” Vera replies, and she nods to us. She had the room unlocked and I stepped in, placing Percy on the bed, and I dumped our gear on the floor. I locked the door behind us afterwards.

While I made sure nothing was out of place, Percy was sloshing water in her mouth, which she spat in a bucket. Staying clean even when she cannot take a full bath is one of her habits and rituals that I got used to. They’re probably good ones. She’s not resistant to disease like I am.

I turned to check on Percy. She had stripped down to her underwear, glasses haphazardly tossed to the bed.

The alcohol in my system is impairing my judgment. I should be turning around and should not be watching Percy tend to herself, but I just watched her. Life in the wasteland claimed some of her softness, and she had a few scars here and there, but she’s still attractive. Her legs are toned from all the walking we do, and her shoulders slightly are wider than her hips. When she turns around though, her behind is… something else.

Wait.

I’m looking at her bare ass.

I _need_ to turn around. I need to turn around, but my body isn’t letting me. I can feel myself tenting at the crotch of my pants. This isn’t good.

When she turned to me, naked, swaying, and smiling, I thought I was in another dream, but I felt her warm breath and I know I’m awake. Things are happening too fast. My eyes dared to meet hers, then it trails below, to her small erect nipples, wet and shiny from her half-bath, and the dark patch of fuzz between her legs.

Damn it. I wanted to claim her. Act on the fantasies I have about her on nights that my body was too warm for my own liking. Put those nipples in my mouth. Bury my face between her legs. Pin her against the bed and make sure the entire boat hears her cry out my name.

“Big guy. Come to bed with me?”

But I hear the slur in her speech, and it took all of my willpower to shake my head.

“No. Percy. You’re drunk,” I say to her firmly.

“And?”

“I don’t want you to do things you’ll regret later, and I do not want to take advantage of your vulnerability.”

“Wait, who said anything about- I just want to sleep next to you again, Charon.”

“Naked?”

Mouth open and brows furrowed, she looks at herself, and curses. “I am- oh no, I am so sorry, holy shit,” Percy apologizes. “Fuck. Fuck! Stupid ass drunk idiot! I’m never drinking again,” she says to herself.

“Keep your voice down. I’ll go look for something you can wear.”

“Dammit, Charon I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to harass you like this, oh my God-”

“I do not feel harassed, but I appreciate the apology. Now, refrain from making any more noise,” I tell her, and I reach into her pack. A flimsy red nightgown was the last thing I expected.

“Percy, is this fine? This will not protect you from the cold much.”

She looks at me, then at the thing, and snatches it from my hand. “Yes! Um, thank you Charon. I found it when we were looting and-”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Percy. Get dressed.”

She nods, turning around and dressing herself, then she clears her throat. “All clear. Your turn.”

I cleaned up and changed into something more suitable for sleeping, Percy’s back in sight, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. When I finished changing, I got in bed.

We lay on the bed next to each other, but she seems so far away.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Charon. I don’t want you to think that I’m like some of your former employers who, uh, used you for your body.”

“I don’t think of you that way.”

“That’s a relief. You’re important to me.”

I look at her, and she’s facing me now, eyes soft and filled with a feeling I cannot describe. “Thank you. You are important to me too.”

Burying her face in my chest, she wraps an arm around my waist. I pulled the covers over us, and I held her.

“Night. Love you.”

  
  


February 7, 2278.

Two days after DeLoria’s first visit, he came over again. He brought with him a few of Percy’s belongings from Megaton, including Dogmeat’s teddy bear. The mistress entrusted a copy of the house key to the greaser, much to my dismay, but the dog has been restless without Mr. Bubbles and having it back gave me some relief.

It smells more like dog slobber now than it did Percy, but Dogmeat is still comforted by it. He misses her. I miss her too.

Dr. Li said she is getting better, but she’s still cautious. The doctor told me to not have too much hope; she had seen patients seemingly recover only for them to crash after a few days. It scares me. I wouldn’t know what to do with my life if Percy dies.

Dammit, I don’t want to think about that. _She is going to live._ Percy is a tough gal.

At this point, only Dr. Li, the greaser, and I are allowed in Percy’s room. She caught one of the scribes she entrusted attempting to extract blood from my partner without her authorization. I know something’s up, but the doctor isn’t budging. What is she hiding from the Brotherhood about my partner?

One of these days, I might need to confront her.

Smoking isn’t allowed in Percy’s room, so DeLoria and I just chewed bubblegum in silence while I maintained our equipment. I sorted out Percy’s change of clothes, came across that flimsy red sleepwear, and tucked it under her other belongings, what’s left of my skin burning hot. I’m doing my best not to let my mind wander to _that_ night. Butch is fiddling with his Pip-Boy, identical to the one my partner owns, and I sigh in relief in knowing that he didn’t see me touch that thing. He already has several wrong ideas.

While I was hastily putting it away, a slip of paper fell.

It turned out to be a photograph. She found a camera when we stormed Paradise Falls, to save some kids. I remember the look on her face when Little Lamplight’s brat of a mayor told them that slavers took their friends. We ended up opening the slave pens and trashing the place. Percy and I told them to find Hannibal Hamlin in the Washington Monument. Meeting Hamlin was one of my nicer memories from the past few months.

I’d do anything to see the determined gleam in her eye again.

I look at the photograph. It’s of me and the dog. Why would Percy keep something like this?

In the photo, I am asleep, taking a nap on the couch, and the dog was laying on my chest, looking at my partner behind the camera. I flipped it over, and there was some writing on it. Months of being taught by Percy paid off. She taught an old dog new tricks: I learned how to read.

“ _1-13-2278. Charon and Dogmeat._ ” This was two days after we got rid of my contract. “ _The two loves of my life, after scotch,_ ” she wrote under that. There’s a hollow heart drawn next to it.

I snort at the caption, knowing Percy’s sense of humor. Calling me Mr. Dreamboat, joking that I am her boyfriend… hell, she managed to freak out a few of the bigots in Tenpenny Tower with it once.

Now that I’ve thought about it… the playful nicknames, the touching, the concern, her putting me above herself, the trust she puts in me, the “love you” she mumbled while piss-wasted when I slept next to her in Rivet City; how did I miss all the signs?

Was I too taken in by the belief that smoothskins cannot harbor these feelings for ghouls? What did that damn kiss in the rotunda mean?

Does she even know the consequences of that kiss? If blondie wakes up and tattles to the Brotherhood about the Lone Wanderer kissing her ghoul bodyguard before running inside the chamber, it will ruin her. They might treat her even worse than before. My fears of people hurting her because of being associated with me gets worse as the days pass. There are so many things I want to ask her, so many things I want to talk about, but she’s still lying there, unconscious, under life support.

This can’t be the way things end.

Does she _love_ me the way I love her?

I just want to know my place in her life.

  
  
  



	16. XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of past non-con, depiction of suicide by firearm, whump
> 
> This is a very uncomfortable chapter. Please skip it if these elements might re-traumatize you.

December 28, 2277.

The inside of my mouth feels dry, and I feel like a brahmin trampled my head. What time is it?

Cracking one eye open, I see the top of Percy’s head nestled into my shoulder, her black hair ruffled, and I lean into her warmth, not wanting to get up. I wrapped an arm around her and settled there. Something soft and warm was pressing against my crotch and my eyes shot open.

I’m fully awake now, and I jolted out of the bed. Looking down, I saw that I’m only dressed in boxers, and Percy was wearing nothing but a scanty red nightgown, splayed on the bed and still soundly asleep.

What the hell happened last night?

_Did I touch her?_

Women bleed when they do it for the first time, right? Dogmeat whined and barked as I tossed the covers away, checking the mattress for blood.

Then I saw it, specks of red on the white sheets and blood staining her thighs. Fuck. This is not happening. _This is not happening._ She trusted me and I hurt her. _No. No, no, no. No!_

I stayed away from her as far as possible, sitting in the corner with my shotgun in my hand, breathing ragged. I feel betrayed by myself, for ruining the only good fucking thing I had in… centuries.

_What have I done?_

I sat there for fuck knows how long, numb.

Percy stirred awake, stretching her limbs out, complaining about being sore. She greeted me good morning but it barely even registers in my ears. Confused, she looks around, clutching her lower belly, and she locks eyes with me.

“Charon, what are you doing there?”

My lungs felt like they were filled with black smoke. I’m choking on my own spit. I tear my eyes away from her with haste. I feel them getting wet.

“Percy, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

I pointed at the blood on her person. Her eyes widened. If she asks me to eat a bullet, I’d do it.

There, I sat, waiting for judgment.

Waiting for the bomb to drop.

Waiting for the world to end all over again.

My memories of the old world dying came flooding in.

October 23, 2077.

The last nuclear siren was being sounded. I stood with the others, waiting for my next orders, but they never came. Each of us kept our contracts in our breast pocket. We thought we would be discharged the day we won Anchorage back in January. They took away our power armor, and sent us to California.

My home. If I had one to return to, anyway. It’s been seven years...

All of us thought our contracts were finally fulfilled. That we’ve paid for the sins of our fathers.

All of us were dead wrong.

Our contracts changed hands so many times, I cannot even remember all of their names. All I know is we were in charge of protecting influential people. Powerful people. People in the government. Governors. Senators. The President.

People who did not think twice before using us for their amusement. People who did not think twice before asking us to kill a political opponent. People who did not think twice before they ordered us to kill rioting protestors who demanded food while they dined on cube steak.

Cruel people.

Evil people.

Magwayen, our medic and the oldest operative, was sweating bullets, her expression haunted, while Xolotl sits on a rock, resignation in his eyes. Azrael was arguing with Vanth and Anubis, while Valkyrie sat beside me, her fingers tangled through her hair.

I was the only one who stood still.

“They won’t abandon us,” said Vanth. Beside her, Anubis nods, face grim. “They promised us that we’d be free of our contracts once every single one of the necessary personnel are in Control Station ENCLAVE. They promised us!”

“Face it Vanth, the military lied to us. Again. I swear to fucking God, you internalized all that bullshit they taught you,” Azrael yells back. “Look around you. Our superiors are nowhere to be found. We no longer have shock collars on our necks. Our contracts means jack shit. You stupid bitch, we should be taking shelter!”

“Don’t you trust the United States of America?! They said they will be here. They _will_ be here!”

“Trust the USA? _Trust the USA?!_ ” Magwayen finally screams, rabid. “Bullshit! They put us through hell just because someone we’re related to are suspected Reds. I don’t know how I managed to fake gobbling up their anti-commie crap just to avoid a beating, or worse, the fucking shock collar. I was nineteen when they started to torture me into being subservient. I thought that was bad, but look at Charon here! How old was he when he got brought to the facility? _Eleven._ You trust a government who would do that to a _child?_ ”

“What the hell are you even trying to say, Mag?” Anubis cuts in.

“Don’t you get it? We’re disposable to them. They never treated us as people in the first place. They’ve milked us dry and now they’re tossing us away. I don’t know about you, but I’m not sticking around. I’m finally free of those miserable bastards and I-”

Before Magwayen can finish her rant, Vanth puts a bullet in her head. Mag’s body flops to the floor like a ragdoll. The shotgun blast tore through her skull, bone and mush strewn over the sand.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“You know our orders, Xolotl. Terminate anyone who would run away. If any of you tries to flee I will not hesitate to kill you!”

“This is nuts!”

My fellow operatives were killing each other, while I stood there, watching the mushroom cloud in the distance.

Beside me, Valkyrie is wailing as it grows. The debris was starting to fly towards us. In the corner of my eye, I see it. Valkyrie’s shoving the muzzle of her gun to the roof of her mouth. I don’t even know if I heard a gunshot or another explosion. Probably both.

My legs wanted to run away as I watched the cloud of debris approaching, but I felt the phantom pain of electricity shooting through my neck, tearing through my cheeks, and I stayed where I was. My pants are warm with blood and my own piss, eyes brimming with tears, as I watched the world end.

It was so bright.

Memories of all the crimes I’ve committed in the name of the United States of America bombards me as the heat tore my skin off my body.

I must be in hell and receiving the appropriate punishment.

Watching Percy’s blank expression, I feel like I’m being cooked alive by the heat again.

Waiting to be damned again. I have another sin I have to pay for.

“If you wish to terminate me for this violation, or have me terminate myself, I will gladly do so.”

Percy kneels in front of me.

“What are you talking about? Charon, you did nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong? What I did was worse than a violation of our contract. I’ve squandered the trust you put in me and-”

“No, I mean, you really did not do anything, big guy. I’m on my period, Jesus Christ. You didn’t stab me in your sleep.”

A cry I didn’t know I was holding back jumped from my lungs. I tossed my shotgun to the side, and put my arms around her.

“I know you can never hurt me, silly,” she laughed into my chest, muffled.

“I thought I _raped_ you.”

Pulling away from me, Percy looks at me with a dumbfounded expression, which was quickly replaced with pity when she looks at my face. Her thumb wipes away the warm moisture under my eye.

I was crying?

Dammit.

“Oh God, Charon.”

Aside from me fucking crying, it registered to us that I was having another panic attack. We did the same thing we did when the Enclave landed in the memorial. The grounding techniques. The dog licked my face as we went through it. When my heart finally slows down, Percy sighs and takes my hands in hers.

“Charon, I don’t think you’re capable of such a thing.”

“Alcohol impairs judgment.”

“Alcohol isn’t an excuse to touch people without their consent. You’re either an abuser, or you’re not, with or without it.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

“Look, I haven’t really opened up to anyone about this in detail, not even to Butch or Amata, but remember Stevie?”

I nod. I looked in her eyes and they were somber.

“He was drunk on duty when he caught me using my BB gun in the vault’s lower wards,” Percy almost whispers, voice breaking. “He said he needed to bring me to the vault’s precinct. I did what any scared 16-year old did. Comply.”

“Percy, you don’t have to recount your experiences to prove a point.”

“Let me do this, Charon. I want to do this.”

Sighing, I nod, and she drew closer to me.

“Stevie... he sodomized me,” Percy whispers. “He did it under the influence, and it happened multiple times over the course of months,” she continues, meeting my eyes. Swallowing my own spit felt like choking on stones as I listened to her.

“ _You_ didn’t. The fact that you feel terrified at the mere suspicion of doing it says a lot about you. You’re a good person,” my friend tells me, her small hand sliding up my cheek to comfort me.

“No. Percy, I am not. Remember when those bastards in Tenpenny Tower asked you why you were treating me like a person? You said that it was just the bare minimum. That’s just what I did. Bare minimum.”

“Fair,” Percy sighs. “But for what it’s worth? I feel you’re the person I can be piss-wasted vulnerable with. I trust you.”

Feeling the urge to bury my face in her hair, I asked for permission to come closer, and she nods. Inhaling sharply, I let the tears come.

“You put too much trust in me.”

“You’ve proven worthy of it.”

“Percy, I need to say something.”

This angel looks at me with those eyes again. I figured it out now, the emotions they carry. They were brimming with trust and devotion.

“Maybe the talk about the Enclave the night before triggered it, but what happened earlier pushed me over the edge. I had another recall.”

I pause to see if she’s still listening. She was doing so, intently. “Continue.”

“My mind went back to the day the bombs dropped. I was contemplating all the things I did under the Enclave’s employ. The bombs skinning me felt like an appropriate punishment. When I thought I hurt you, I felt like the world was ending all over again.”

Percy squeezes my hand.

“When I said that you were the best thing that happened in my life, I said that with full sincerity. I do not want to risk that in any shape or form. You are my employer, but you’ve treated me far more than a simple employee. I’m not sure...”

The words aren’t coming out.

“Yes?”

I wanted to ask her what the “love you” meant. Does she ever remember it?

She says that to the dog all the time. She can’t be serious. Still, a decrepit part of my mind wanted to bring it up.

Then my mind wanders to the jeers and insults people threw at my mistress for having my company. The dirty, judgmental looks. Their disgust. Surely that “love you” was a lapse in judgment, right?

I better not encourage it.

Perhaps one day I’ll ask her. But not today.

“Nevermind.”

I pull away from her and collect myself.

“You should clean up.”

Percy opened her mouth to say something, but a growl bubbled from her stomach. Blushing, she nods.

“Right. I should. Let’s get something to eat.”

As soon as we’re dressed, Percy curses when she sees the time on her Pip-Boy.

“Fuck, it’s already 2 PM. How long did we sleep?”

“12 hours tops.”

“Okay. Let’s get lunch at Gary’s Galley then hit the road. We need to find Lamplight.”

I raise a brow at her suggestion. “Are you sure we should travel while hungover?”

I follow Percy through the stairs. “There’s no time. We can’t risk the Enclave finding the GECK before we do.”

“If you insist.”

Lunch was mostly quiet. The food tasted bland in my mouth despite being well-seasoned. Percy was chewing on her third Mirelurk cake while I simmered in my own thoughts. Before we got out of the city, Percy entrusted Dogmeat to DeLoria, leaving him with caps and a copy of a key to her house in Megaton.

When we hit the road, I was still thinking about the “love you”, the incident from earlier, and what lies ahead for us. I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings.

That was a grave mistake.

When we approached Anacostia Crossing, they jumped us. The mercs. Talon Company. My senses were sharper than Percy’s and I didn’t sense their presence. I was caught off guard when one of the bastards threw a bag over my head.

Why did I ever allow myself to become this distracted? Goddamn idiot!

I hear it, Percy’s angry yells as one of the men dragged her into the station. I fired blindly at my assailant, but more of them came, beating my head with batons until I was fucking bloody.

My head spinning, they tied me up, and dragged us deeper into the metro. Then, we stopped. One of them forced me to kneel, then ripped the bag from my head.

“We did it boys! We finally caught the little saint from the vault and this ugly motherfucker,” one of them yells in triumph, and I can barely see Percy spitting in his face from the blood that soaked my left eye.

A yelp escapes her when the asshole backhands her, sending her glasses flying backward. “Let’s see if you’re still so feisty after that, bitch.”

Squinting, Percy looks up to him. “Fuck you.”

He hits her again. I was thrashing hard, unable to protect her. One of the Talon mercs whipped my head with the butt of a pistol and I landed hard on the gravel. The fucker squeezed my jaw while forcing me to get up and I bit him, hard enough to draw blood.

“Argh, fuck! The zombie bit me!”

“Put him down already!”

“Not yet. I wanna watch him suffer while we rough up his girlfriend.”

“Do not fucking touch her,” I growled.

“You know what? I have an idea,” said their ringleader. “Boys, time for some torture.”

I lunged forward, my skull colliding with the bastard’s cheek. Percy takes this opportunity to slip from one of the mercs’ grasp, but his hand caught her Pip-Boy glove.

My contract flies to the ground.

One of the mercs picked it up.

_No._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I cleaned up the tags to avoid spoilers and left only the tags that might trigger people so they can be avoided if necessary.


	17. XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence, whump, sexist language, rape/non-con elements, past rape/non-con.
> 
> There is a brief flashback of a past rape/non-con incident in this chapter, but nothing in explicit detail. I put a horizontal line where it starts and ends, just in case anyone wants to skip past it.

December 28, 2277.

“Zombie. We’re in a hurry here. What’s this?”

The words came out of my mouth, even if I didn’t want to waste a single breath on these scum. My conditioning is kicking in again. All those months Percy tried to wear them down, quashed by the simple act of someone else holding my contract. Goddammit all.

“Yes master,” my mouth said, automatic, _unwilling_. “That is my contract of employment. Whoever holds it is entitled to my services, and I am obligated to follow their orders.”

“Oh, this is rich,” the merc said, skimming through the contents of my contract. “Looks like our Wasteland Angel isn’t that much of one after all. Take a look, boys!”

They took turns reading my contract. I turn to Percy, sweating from every intact pore I had on my body, and her eyes are unfocused, glazed with fear.

“Little Miss 101, a slave owner. Who would’ve thought?”

One of them snickers and pulls Percy’s hair, forcing her to look at him. “So, what else do you use him for, vaultie? You ride his rotten dick when it gets too cold in the wasteland too?”

Laughter broke out among the mercs. More disgusting comments came out of their filthy mouths. Defiant to the end, Percy spits at the merc again, this time her saliva landing on the guy’s eye, and he screams bloody murder.

Dammit, she should focus on getting out of his grasp, not provoking him any further.

The asshole proceeds to slam Percy’s head to the ground, her cheek pressed against the dirt and grit. “You never know when to quit, don’t you? That’s it you little bitch,” he sneers, grabbing a combat knife.

My mind wanted to act, to strangle these mercs for even daring to touch her, but my body is forcing me to stay, waiting for an order to come.

“None of that, Ron,” their ringleader said. “We’re gonna use this zombie to hurt the little bitch.”

“Good idea Dean,” Ron replies. The asshole pulls Percy’s hair again, forcing her to look at him. “Ironic, huh vaultie? All the people we send after you always ends up dead ever since that zombie showed up to follow your ass around. Now he’s gonna fuck you up now his leash slipped through your little hands.”

I will never forget the defiant, confident look on Percy’s face, despite all the bruises and blood on it. “Charon will never hurt me.”

Percy’s words made my chest hurt. I was right. She’s putting too much trust in me. I don’t deserve it.

“We’ll see about that,” Dean laughs, mocking her. “Zombie, c’mere.”

Ears ringing, I comply, shuffling towards the asshole like an actual zombie from a shitty old flick.

“What do you think of your previous employer here? Answer me.”

“She was the best that I had.”

“And why is that? Does she suck your rotting cock at night after you keep her ass safe?”

The other mercs are snickering. If looks could kill, Percy would have slaughtered every single one of them.

Bile is rising to my throat, unwilling to answer that question, but so is the ghost of an electric shock. “No, master. I never touched her.”

There seems to be an understanding among the mercs, as they were giving each other suggestive looks and nudges.

“Do you want to?” Ron asks.

I glare at the bastard. “I am not obligated to answer that.”

Dean shoves the contract towards Ron. “Now _he’s_ holding your contract. Answer the question, zombie.”

Goddammit all. She’s never supposed to find out about that.

I try to suppress myself from answering, and the more I do, the more my neck feels like there are fire ants marching under what’s left of my skin. My hand flies to my neck, trying to claw the imaginary shock collar off. I feel blood under my fingernails.

“Stop it! Charon is not your toy,” Percy yells, her voice barely registering to my ears.

One of the mercs kicked her in the chest. I can hear her ribs cracking through the ringing in my ears. “Don’t worry, soon enough you’ll be _his_.”

Fucker. You fucking demons.

“Answer the fucking question!” Ron’s voice.

“Yes,” I rasp, the contract forcing me to answer.

Dean takes the contract back from Ron. “You wanna fuck her?”

“Yes.”

“Then go fuck her. Split the stupid bitch in half.”

My eyes flick to Percy. She’s mouthing something to me.

_“Stall. Please.”_

That word again. Please.

There’s despair in Percy’s eyes, a primal fear that I’ve seen before.

I’ve seen it in the mirror once.

My stomach is churning, the order is making my brain misfire, and I wanted to retch, to puke my bloody guts out. The memories are flooding in.

* * *

May 5, 2077.

My eighteenth birthday.

An old man, a senator, held my contract, ordering me to stay still as he ordered Vanth to touch me.

“C’mon, son. You’re a grown man now. Consider this experience as a birthday gift,” I remember him, a cigar resting on his lips. He was leaning back on his leather chair, holding his dick in his hand, the fucking voyeur.

I remember my fellow operative on top of me, enthusiastic, the smell of mint in her breath and her hands around my neck.

She was laughing.

The old man was laughing.

The mercs’ laughter is mocking, _evil,_ like Vanth’s. Like the senator’s.

* * *

“What are you waiting for, zombie? Come get some poon,” one of the mercs leer, pulling me back to the present.

“Do it in her ass!”

“Maybe he doesn’t have a dick anymore.”

“Take her clothes off! I wanna see her tits!”

“You’re gonna enjoy it!”

“Fuck her like a real man!”

_“C’mon, son. You’re a grown man now. Consider this experience as a birthday gift.”_

The burn is spreading to my face. I’m clawing at the exposed muscles of my cheek, the ants marching to my brain as I tried to resist the order. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

A punch landed on my jaw. It came from Dean. He’s holding my contract.

“Hey, asshole, you’re gonna listen to me or what?”

Something clicks in my head, and I smile. In the corner of my eye, I see Percy grinning.

“Physical violence on your part invalidates the contract.”

I grab the bastard by his head and with one swift motion, I snap his goddamn neck. Percy takes the opportunity to headbutt the merc holding her, and once she is out of his grasp, she sweeps her foot to knock him on his ass.

One of the mercs was drawing his weapon, but I’m faster. I lunged at him, disarming him, and used his own rifle to shoot him in the gut.

Ron lunged to pick up my contract, but Percy bares her teeth and goes for his neck, latching at his throat. He lets out a blood-curdling cry. What the hell?! How is she even capable of that?

“Ah fuck! What are you, a zombie like him? Get the fuck off me!”

Percy rips out a huge chunk of skin, and proceed to take another fucking bite, tearing through the guy’s cheek. One of the other mercs enters the fray and snatches the contract.

No, no, no!

“That’s it, we’ve fucked around for far too long. This bitch needs to die.”

We were so close!

“Kill her, zombie!”

The energy I spent restraining myself is gone. My body was acting on its own accord, the conditioning overriding my will.

“I’m sorry.”

My friend drops and does a low sweep, knocking me off balance, the rifle in my hand clattering to the floor. She lunges at the merc who’s holding my contract, but I grab her by her neck, and slam her against the metro walls. Percy’s hand reaches for my face, fingers smearing the tears I didn’t know was flowing from my eyes, and the blood on my cheeks.

“Big guy,” she calls out to me, voice breaking. That damn nickname. I never knew how much I grew fond of it until now. “No matter what happens, you’re my friend. I’ll die as your friend.”

“Dammit, Percy,” I sob. “Dammit! You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me and now I’m killing you.”

She gives me a look, doting, _trusting_. Both of her hands wrap around my wrist.

“I trust you, Charon.”

I squint my eyes shut. One squeeze of my hand and I can kill her. I pray to whatever fucking god there is to help me. The burning has reached my brain.

I’m in agony.

But I let her go.

“You useless fucking zombie!”

I clutched my head, burning electricity surging through it.

Through the ringing of my ears, I hear obnoxious shouts, and familiar barks.

“Hey! Stupid mutt, get back here! Dammit, Percy’s gonna kill me…”

Four paws were pattering against the gravel. Sharp teeth sinks into the merc’s arm.

“What the hell is- **_agh fuck, get it off me! Get this fucking mutt off me!”_ **

“Dogmeat! Good boy!” Percy exclaims, eyes lighting up with joy.

“What the hell happened here?!” DeLoria yelled, shooting the merc in the back.

“Butch!”

As soon as the Talon merc loses grasp on the paper, Percy picks up my contract, feels around for her glasses, and wears them.

I was never so happy to see DeLoria’s face.

Our celebration was short-lived. A shot rang through the metro.

I can’t feel anything, and I fell.

  
  


February 9, 2278.

A clattering noise interrupted my sleep. Dr. Li had dropped a tray of medical equipment on the floor. She ran to the intercom and began to yell.

“Patient Persephone Zhou is missing!”

As soon as it registers in my ears, I scramble to get up from the foot of the bed, and see Percy’s empty bed, still warm from her weight and bloody. Droplets of her blood led to the outside of the room.

_How could I have been so careless?_

I ran out to the Citadel’s compound, past the tin cans and the scribes, following the trail. My lungs are fucking burning, and I’m panting like a dog, but I followed the smell of iron, until it led me to Anacostia. There were five Talon mercs, one of them holding a conscious, sobbing Percy by her hair, the blade of a combat knife pressing against her pale neck.

“Let her go, you bastards!”

One of them laughs and holds my contract in front of my face. No. That thing was burnt to a crisp. This is impossible.

“Slit her throat, zombie.”

The merc hands me the knife. The familiar pressure in my head is back again. The failsafe. I can feel the ghost of an electric shock creeping under the skin of my face for trying to resist the order. My hand, fucking shaking, desperate to stay still, grasps the handle, and presses the blade against Percy’s neck.

My partner is looking at me, no hint of fear in her eyes despite the tears, instead giving me that doting, _trusting_ look.

“Charon, I trust you.”

I screamed as crimson droplets poured from the vein. I cried out her name.

“Hey! Hey, wake up!”

Cold sweat pouring from what undamaged skin I had, I shoved the figure looming over me away, intent on strangling the hell out of it, but I was met with a young man’s terrified blue eyes.

“Hey, it’s me!”

My hands were wrapped around Butch’s neck. As fast as I could, I let him go, pulling him up from the cold floor, and looking where Percy’s bed is. She’s still lying there.

“Geez, man. You were screaming her name in your sleep,” he mutters, not bothering to fix his messed up hair and brow knitted together. Fuck.

“I’m sorry.”

I sank to the floor, at the foot of Percy’s bed. DeLoria tosses a bottle of water on my lap.

Perfect. My nightmares about the old world slowly got less frequent, but now they’re starting to be about Percy. Just great. Why couldn’t she have stayed in the sweet ones?

“You had a dream that she’s hurt or something?” the greaser asks, sitting next to me.

“Yes.”

“Was it those Talon psychos again?”

I pause to look at Butch, wincing at the memory.

“Yes.”

“You two really love each other, huh?”

“...stop.”

“Hey, I’m not saying that to mock you, big guy. I think she really does.”

“Only _she_ gets to call me that. Now, shut up. You’re getting the wrong idea.”

“Fine then, _Charon_. I ain’t shutting up though. I wanna talk about Percy,” he replies.

This asshole can’t take a hint, huh?

“I don’t care,” I tell him, but he keeps going.

“I’m pretty sure you heard how she defended you in that argument we had in Megaton. Did you know she also never left your side after you got jumped by those mercs?”

I probably owe this greaser for that, but my irritation grows every second that passes. I just woke up from a nightmare about Percy, and her pig-headed ex is blathering about her relationship with me. My urge to punch his jaw again is growing; is DeLoria really that big of an ass? What decisions have I made for my life to lead to this?

I slam my palm into the floor, hoping it would scare him off.

“Any good friend would do that. Now, go away.”

He doesn’t.

“I also heard that blonde from the Lyons’ Pride or whatever talking about how she kissed you before she ran in the purifier.”

Lyons is awake?

Shit.

I don’t even care about the absurdity of this situation I’m put in anymore. I’m more concerned about Percy’s fate once she wakes up and the Brotherhood confronts her for that.

“She thought she was gonna die and the last thing she wanted to do was kiss you. Shit, she’s over the moon for you. ”

_Don’t give me hope, dammit._

“I’ll believe that when she says it to my face.”

“Wow, I thought I was dumb. You’re on a whole other level.”

“I must say, you’re the only fool I know who gives hope to someone competing for your beloved’s heart.”

The greaser groans and runs his hand through her hair. “Damn, well, there ya go. You _are_ trying to get her to love you. You’re just in denial.”

Goddammit.

“This isn’t a competition. That’s not what I-”

Butch waves a hand at me. “Hey. What I said about being jealous when we were in Percy’s house? I really am. I wanna get back with her. But fuck that, what’s important is what Percy wants.”

Am I hearing this right? This obnoxious little shit is giving a damn about anyone other than himself?

“If I can’t make her happy anymore but you can, it’s fine. I ain’t gonna cry and mope about it like a little bitch. I’ll back off.”

“I… appreciate that.”

“Whatever. What are you planning to do about it when she wakes up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was one hell of a trauma conga line for the LW and Charon. Things are going to start to look up soon, though. Charon finally hit a milestone and disobeyed a direct order!


	18. XVI

December 28, 2277.

I landed on the gravel. The ringing in my ears made it hard to hear anything, and the blood in my eyes made it hard to see, but clear as day, Percy was screaming, kicking the merc responsible for shooting me in the back.

It must’ve hit my spine. I can’t move my limbs.

Straining, I tilt my neck to see Percy leaning against the wall for support, smashing her foot against the bastard’s face, stomping him over and over until his brain splattered on the floor. DeLoria was holding his head between his hands, distraught, and he heaved, puking his breakfast this morning.

“Shit…”

“Welcome to the fucking wasteland Butch,” Percy huffs, dragging the soles of her shoes to get the bits of brains out.

I roll my head to face the ceiling, silently thanking whatever the hell is watching over us for allowing me to see her safe one more time.

My eyelids are getting heavy. I’m fading.

The only thing keeping me was Percy’s voice.

_“Charon, hang in there!”_

_“Percy, oh my God, he’s dying! What do we do?”_

_“Grab our gear, Butch. We gotta get him to a doctor.”_

I feel weightless, surrounded by Percy’s familiar warmth.

_“Shit, are you sure you can carry him all by yourself?”_

_“Just listen to what I say, Butch!”_

_“Wait, wait! Rivet City’s the other way around.”_

_“We’re not going to Rivet City.”_

I was ready to go. There are not a lot of good things I’ve done in my lifetime, but protecting this angel? One of the best things I ever did.

_“Help! Somebody help us!”_

_“Tourist? What the fuck happened?!”_

_“We got jumped…”_

_“Barrows! Charon’s dying!”_

There are some regrets I have, like never figuring out what I really feel for her, or telling her how much I’m fond of her.

_“Weak pulse… Blood loss is severe... we’re losing him.”_

_“Put us in with the Glowing Ones.”_

_“Radiation is harmful to you humans, and there’s no guarantee that it will help him.”_

_“Doc, please, just put us in.”_

_“Nurse Graves, chain the test subjects.”_

Still, to spend my last few minutes in her arms would’ve been a consolation.

I would’ve been content dying now.

??? ??, ????

“Mama, where are they taking us?”

Her hands run through my hair, the metal of her handcuffs cold against my forehead, and hushes me.

“Stay quiet Artyom. We’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Please don’t worry, little one. Do you want me to sing to you?”

I nod. Mama starts singing the lullaby she usually sings to me.

Near the end, I understand why she loved singing it to me.

_“Da, gotovyas v boi apasniy, pomni mat' svayu.”_

I need to stay strong for her.

_“Spi, mladyenets, moi prekrasniy, bayushki bayu.”_

There’s only the two of us now my father’s gone.

The automobile stopped and the men in uniform made us step out. One of them rips me from my mother’s grasp and I start to cry, reaching for her.

“Artyom, I need you to stay strong until this is over. I’ll get you back.”

“That’s enough. The courts have determined that this child is under our custody now,” the big man in uniform tells her, and he blocked me from getting to her. Using both my hands, I reached through the man’s arm to grasp my mother’s hand, not wanting to let go.

“Mama? Mama, what’s going on?”

My hands slip from hers as I get grabbed by one of the men.

“The court’s decision isn’t final! I have a lawyer, and she will prove that what you’re doing is a violation of our rights! I’ll get my son back!”

“Until that can be determined in the next hearing, this child will be staying with us. Now if you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Volkov.”

I bit the hand that kept me away from my mother and ran to her, throwing myself against her leg. She ducked to give me a hug, the last one we’ll ever share, and guided me towards the big men in uniform.

That was the first and last time she ever hurt me.

“Artyom, I’ll look for you! I promise. Your Auntie Katya will help us.”

“Ma, I’m scared!”

“Stay strong for me, little one. I love you!”

“Don’t leave me!”

I never saw her again.

That night was the last time I ever heard my mother’s lullaby. In the cold cell they put me in, I cried on my cot, humming the song to myself.

Across me, a girl my age was standing behind the bars of hers, holding a teddy bear in one hand, and extending the other one to me. Her hair was the darkest shade of black I’ve ever seen, and her eyes are dark, hiding behind her glasses. A kind smile is on her face.

“Hey, big guy.”

I left my cot to reach out for her, our fingers touching.

“Stay with me.”

I blink, and my hands are big, with exposed muscle, joints, and tendons, and they’re touching the girl’s fingers. Now a woman’s fingers. Percy’s fingers.

_“Charon, stay with me.”_

I blink again, and I’m not in the detention cell anymore.

  
  


??? ??, 2277.

My hand flies to my face, and it’s no longer bloody nor wet with tears. I can move my limbs again. Rubbing my eyes, my vision’s starting to get clearer. I sit up, taking in my surroundings. It’s dark.

I can see Percy sleeping on the gurney next to me, breathing slowly, thanks to the soft green glow in the corner of the room. Her fingers are entwined with my free hand’s.

The radiation coming from the Glowing Ones comforted my insides, warmth seeping through my bones. Outside, I see Doctor Barrows observing us, writing something in his clipboard. He moves to turn on the lights in the room, and the door to the room clicks softly.

“Charon. I’m glad to see you’re awake. You’ve been unconscious for days. Your human friend brought you here to save your life,” he greets me.

“What day is it?”

“December 31st.”

“What’s Percy doing in here? The radiation will kill her,” I rasp, watching her sleeping form.

“Percy suggested that we put the two of you in this chamber. She’s healing from the radiation too. Look closely at her scrapes and wounds.”

I blinked at the doctor. My eyes flick to Percy, and in the dim green glow, I saw it; her skin knitting itself back together, the wounds that would take weeks to heal fading. Damn, there aren’t even scars.

I think of the pain I went through when I was turning. I wouldn’t wish that on her.

“Is she… is she starting to become one of us?”

“I’m afraid I cannot share patient information with you unless she consents.”

I nod.

Though we kept our voices low, Percy stirred awake, rubbing her eyes and reaching for her glasses. Then, she sat up and looked around, panicked. When her eyes flicked to mine, she drags herself off the bed and throws her arms around me.

“Charon, you’re okay,” she whispers, voice breaking. Her small hands pet what little hair I had on my head, and I can feel myself on the verge of crying again.

When did I ever allow myself to display this much emotion?

Travelling with her really changed me, huh?

Doc Barrows clears his throat. “I’ll go fetch the results of the tests I ran on you, Percy.”

“Thanks again for helping us, doc.”

“It’s my pleasure. Lots of people here would be sad to see you two go.”

Percy squeezes my hand. Sighing, she draws her legs to her chest, looking pensive. Then, we heard gentle knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Percy calls out.

Doc Barrows returns to the room, bringing the clipboard with him.

“Would you prefer some doctor-patient confidentiality, or are you comfortable with discussing this in front of Charon?”

Percy’s eyes flick towards me. “I have no blood relatives left, and Charon’s the closest thing I have to next of kin. If something were to happen to me, he should know.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of the news about your father. My condolences, Percy.”

She nods.

“Thanks doc. I should probably write a will.”

“Yes, that would be wise. Now, where were we?”

Barrows flips through the paper, and beside me, I see the tenseness in Percy’s shoulders again.

“Ah, yes, the results. Persephone, your DNA has a mutation that allows your cells to heal continuously when exposed to a certain dose of radiation.”

“So, doc, does that mean I’m turning ghoul?”

“Surprisingly, no. You’re not exhibiting symptoms of ghoulification. I’ve never seen anything quite like this mutation… it’s almost like it’s engineered. Is there anything in your medical history involving radiation exposure that I should know?”

Percy furrows her brow, thinking.

“A few months back, I volunteered for an experiment while writing the Wasteland Survival Guide with Moira Brown. I, uh, agreed to intentionally irradiate myself to 600 rads. She made me take an experimental cure. More details about it are published in the book.”

Huh, I remember that. Percy was feverish for days after contracting an illness from the dirty, irradiated water she drank for the experiment. I thought it foolish, risking her health like that for a damn book.

“Do you have a copy with you?”

“No, sorry. It’s in Megaton. Moira said that she’s been selling copies to caravans though. Quinn might come across one.”

“I’ll make it a point to ask him to look for one. Thank you for allowing me to study your DNA, Miss Zhou. This might help my research on ghoul physiology.”

“I’m glad to help.”

The doctor turns to leave the room. With another soft click, the doctor closes the door behind him.

“I just lost dad. I thought I was going to lose you too,” Percy whispers against my shoulder, where she buried her face as soon as the doctor turned around.

I was going to embrace her too, but I remember what happened in the metro, the mercs forcing me to admit what my body felt for hers. She must’ve sensed my hesitation to touch her. Percy pulls away from me and gives me a concerned frown.

“Is there something wrong?”

“How can you still be comfortable to be around me after what you’ve heard me say in the metro?”

I cannot discern the emotion on her face, but Percy’s shoulders sagged. I know it’s not positive. But then, she gives me a hesitant smile.

“Charon… I always knew.”

What? What the hell?

“Hey big guy, my eyesight isn’t the best and I can be unaware of my surroundings at times, but I could feel your eyes linger on me more than necessary.”

She knew all this time?

Dammit. How fucking embarrassing.

“If you wish to sell my contract after this, I won’t hold it against you.”

Percy laughs, patting my shoulder.

“Ha, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’re a healthy and virile male, or what passes as such for a ghoul. It’s a normal physiological response, Charon.”

Spoken like a true doctor. Of course she’d be open-minded like that, what did I expect?

“Besides, though we’re friends, I’m your primary health care provider, and you’re my employee. It would be unethical to act on those urges… for the both of us.”

Oh. James’ words before he passed must’ve finally sunk in.

“Of course.”

Wait. ‘ _For both of us?’_ A part of me thinks she sounds like she’s only trying to convince herself.

No. No, I shouldn’t allow myself to linger on such thoughts. James is right.

That’s out of the question.

February 9, 2278.

What do I plan to do about what I feel for her when she wakes up?

Now that’s a question I would’ve answered differently a few months ago. I would’ve said that I wouldn’t act on it. But now?

“I shall wait until she mentions something about it.”

DeLoria rolls his eyes. Anything he was about to say next was interrupted when the doors opened, and a distraught Dr. Li is following a fully conscious Sarah Lyons.

Shit. Here we go.

“Sarah, please, only your father is authorized to see her,” Dr. Li pleads, but to no avail.

“Why are you keeping her from the Brotherhood, doctor? What happened to Percy?”

“This is something I cannot share with you due to doctor-patient confidentiality.”

Butch and I got up from our spot and stood guard. Lyons sees us, fuming, glaring daggers at the doctor.

“How am I not allowed to see an honorary member of the Lyons Pride but outsiders can? Who authorized this?”

“Your father did,” Dr. Li said, massaging her temples. “This is a delicate situation for Persephone. For everyone. You didn’t see the episode her ghoul companion had when one of your initiates tried to separate him from her.”

“Right, of course,” she replies, looking at me with disdain. I hold her gaze as a silent challenge, and she tears it away from me, directing it towards Butch.

Part of me is thankful that Lyons didn’t say anything about what she witnessed before Percy ran in the purifier.

“And this kid over here?”

Butch scowls at her. “Hey! I’m not a-”

“I let him in because I needed someone to procure supplies that might not be available in the Citadel,” Dr. Li replies, eyes darting back and forth between the two of us. She’s lying, but it seems that the blonde isn’t picking it up.

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, I go to Rivet City sometimes to pick stuff up for the doc.”

Lyons sighs. “Just let me see her.”

Dr. Li nods grimly and motions for us to let her see Percy. Lyons shoves the plastic curtains aside and takes a long hard look at Percy.

“How?! I don’t understand. She looks fine for someone who… ”

“Sentinel Lyons, is there something I need to know as Percy’s doctor?”

“The explosion didn’t come from _inside_ the purifier.”

Dr. Li’s eyes widened, sweating bullets. Butch was looking at Lyons with a raised eyebrow, but my eyes are locked on Li. I’m sensing that whatever she was hiding from me is related to what Lyons is about to say.

“The explosion came from _Percy._ ”

If it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation and the fucking bomb Lyons just dropped, I would’ve laughed at the look of Butch’s face right now.

“How the hell is that possible?” Butch asks.

“Lyons, you just came out of a coma. Are you sure-”

“I know what I saw, Dr. Li. _Percy was glowing green_. Then a goddamn mushroom cloud erupted from her, like someone dropped a mini-nuke in the area using a Fat Man.”

Dr. Li’s groans and rubs her face.

“Please, let’s keep this confidential, Sentinel.”

“Confidential? She might be a safety hazard if she ends up exploding here in the Citadel.”

As the doctor and the sentinel argued, my eyes shifted to Percy.

_Angel, what are you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Da, gotovyas v boi apasniy, pomni mat' svayu.” - Think, when bracing for fierce battle, of your mother true.
> 
> “Spi, mladyenets, moi prekrasniy, bayushki bayu.” - Sleep, my dear, beloved baby, bayushki-bayu.
> 
> Transliteration and translation of the full song found [here.](https://allpoetry.com/poem/13214657-Cossack-Lullaby----translation-of-Lermontovs-Kazachya-kolybelnaya-by-Dave-Bennett)
> 
> I just wanna say that Nerd Rage and Nuclear Anomaly are very fun perks for roleplaying. It makes writing 50s-style science fiction quite interesting!


	19. XVII

October 1, 2277.

That was the day Percy and I met Dr. Li.

A hard-nosed security officer who introduced himself as Harkness almost didn’t let us in the city. He seemed annoyed at Percy and suspicious of me, but my mistress flashes a smile and says something about Dr. Li’s work on hydrophones- _hydrophobic?_ Whatever it was, Harkness doesn’t have a clue either.

“Just keep out of trouble in my boat. I’m watching the two of you,” he tells us, and Percy nods.

“I’m just a young scientist with my assistant. Don’t worry Chief.”

Harkness looks at me from head to toe. I glared right back at him.

“He looks more like a mercenary type. What does he even assist you with?”

“Moving heavy equipment and keeping me safe while I conduct my research, of course!”

A half-truth. Though I’m not her errand boy, I’ve been keeping her ass alive as she put herself in danger “for science”. I did push her out of the way when a landmine almost blew up on her face when we were collecting them “for science”. Some days ago she also intentionally irradiated herself by wading in with those Church of Atom weirdos and drinking the water surrounding the bomb in the middle of town “for science”. Then she jumped off the fucking railings and broke her leg, also “for science”, and I had to haul her to Moira Brown’s shop.

I took care of her sick ass for days. In the month I knew her, sometimes I think Percy needs a doctor too...

“Yeah, yeah, fine. One of you step out of line while in my boat, you’ll be answering to me.”

As we got in, Percy smiled like a cat that got the cream and gave me a thumbs up.

In the science lab, one of the scientists’ arguing with a business type in a suit, and an arrogant one, judging from the tone of his voice. Percy listened to their exchange for a while, then squinted when she sees one of them accompanying a guy who was moving boxes.

There was fresh produce in it. I can’t remember the last time I saw an actual carrot, but there it was.

Percy gently nudges my arm with her elbow. “Huh. So Dr. Li _is_ working on hydroponics. I guess our alibi checks out. Who would’ve thought?”

Lucky girl.

There was a hint of apprehension in Percy’s step as she approached this one. This particular scientist looks about Percy’s father’s age, judging from a more recent photograph of him that Percy keeps on her person at all times. Her eyes are sharp, and dark, like Percy’s and her father’s, and her graying black hair is kept in a neat bun. She looks like she means business, and has that detached, no-nonsense look on her face too.

“Dr. Madison Li?”

“This is a restricted area. I’m tired of- it’s you! My heavens, you look so much like him,” she blurts out.

Her eyes are wide, and her posture is alert. The scientist looks like she had seen either a ghost, or a long-lost friend.

“You know who I am?” my mistress asks her. Percy was watching her with a curious look.

“You’re James’ daughter Persephone, aren’t you?”

‘Percy’ is short for Persephone? I never would’ve guessed. It’s an uncommon name, and my mistress would be the only ‘Persephone’ I know.

“I suppose James never told you about me. Typical…” the doctor continues. There was some resentment in her voice, but when she said that last word, she sounds almost sorrowful.

“I’m sorry. I’m glad to meet you though,” Percy replies. She had used that tone with me before. She’s being sincere.

“I- hm. I suppose you didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries. What are you doing here?”

“Dad left the vault. I wanted to look for him.”

“Did you now? I was under the impression that’s not what your father wanted for you,” Li replied, stern expression on her face.

“Well, security tried to kill me when they found out dad got out. Killed dad’s lab assistant too. I had to fight my way out.”

The doctor was taken aback, her hand flying to her chest in a show of genuine alarm. “All by yourself? Persephone...”

Percy nods.

But then, Dr. Li clears her throat, the initial surprise and concern replaced by that coldness again. “I am sorry to hear that. But I’m afraid I cannot help you. James has come and gone already.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

Dr. Li massages her temples. “He said that he was going back to the lab at Project Purity, in the old Jefferson Memorial Building, northwest of here. It seems he never moved on after all. I told him that too much time has passed when he demanded me to help him. It’s futile.”

“Project Purity? Can you tell me what was the goal behind it?”

The doctor and my mistress exchanged a conversation that was too complicated for me to understand, but from what I can process, it aimed to give clean water to everyone. Noble, but it sounds impossible. How would Percy’s father even pull that off? I suppose if the mistress was smart, her father would be just as smart, or smarter.

Whatever. I shouldn’t even be concerning myself with that. My concern is keeping my contract holder safe. When that person is a crazy kid who drank atomic bomb water “for science”, it’s a challenge.

“Thank you for your help, doctor. I know you’re a busy woman. From one aspiring scientist to a renowned one, maybe we- I can learn from you when the circumstances allow it,” Percy replies, extending her hand.

With hesitation, Li shakes the mistress’ hand. “I see you share your father’s scientific interest. Very well.”

I was walking with Percy, who was formulating a plan on how to get to the rotunda safely, when Dr. Li headed towards us with an uneasy expression, like she changed her mind on something.

“Wait. It’s too dangerous. The memorial was overrun by super mutants.”

Percy looks at Dr. Li, then at me. “Dammit. We better hurry and make sure that dad wasn’t eaten by the muties, then.”

“James is smarter than that. Take these,” Dr. Li said, handing my mistress a container of stimpaks. “They might make things easier for you.”

“Thanks doc,” the mistress replies, tucking the medical supplies in her stash. “C’mon Charon. Let’s get some ammo.”

“As you wish.”

“Let’s come up with a strategy too, so you wouldn’t have to get hurt for me when one of them throws a grenade again.”

Behind me, I can still feel Dr. Li watching the two of us.

As soon as we left the lab, Percy looks up to me. “Do you think she hates me?”

“I do admit that you are difficult to hate, miss, despite all the trouble I go through to keep your sorry ass safe,” I tell her, and she bumps her shoulder into my arm, her chuckles soft.

“Coming from you that sounds like a marriage proposal.”

I snort. I didn’t intend to do it, but it came out anyway. Percy throws her head back and laughs at my reaction.

“Anyway. She seems… cold. I wonder what happened between her and dad for her to act that way,” Percy continues, definitely bothered by their interactions.

“Miss, may I share my observations?”

“Speak freely.”

“She’s holding back an eagerness to meet you,” I tell her.

“Huh. Now why would she do that?”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know the answer.

I tilt my head at Percy. “You seem very invested on what this scientist thinks of you, miss.”

“I grew up without a mom and dad’s the only family I knew. It’s nice to see an older female figure I can look up to. Even if she’s just dad’s old friend and she’s a cold scientist who doesn’t like me.”

Now that’s just sad.

“Fine. If it makes you happy, I think she likes you.”

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better. It’s enough that _you_ like me.”

I snorted again. “Miss, don’t push your luck.”

“I’d rather push your buttons,” she teases, bumping me with her hip.

“Physical violence invalidates our contract,” I joked.

_I joked._

“I know, big guy. I know.”

Perhaps If I wasn’t distracted by Percy’s flirtatious humor, and concerning myself with tactics, I could’ve figured out what Percy meant to the doctor back then.

  
  


February 9, 2278.

“Stop!”

I was using my body to shield Dr. Li, and DeLoria was trying to hold Lyons back, efforts futile, when an old man in blue robes strode in the room.

“Sarah, my child, a word with you,” the old man said with an air of authority.

I’ve seen him once, when Percy fled with the scientists when the Enclave took over Project Purity. It’s the Elder.

“Elder, explain,” the blonde demanded, marching towards him.

“This isn’t a conversation we can have here, Sentinel. Come with me.”

I’m glad that she did as she was told, or I wouldn’t hesitate to brawl with her.

We were left there in tense silence, the machine keeping Percy alive the only thing making a damn sound.

I glared at both DeLoria and Li. They carried guilty looks on their faces.

“You said us three were the only ones allowed inside,” I growl, and to give Li some credit, she didn’t shrink at my words.

The only other person who didn’t was Percy, back when she stepped in to help Patchwork.

“He’s the _Elder_. The Citadel is under his command. As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s being extremely generous to give me full control of Persephone’s treatment despite protests from the scribes. I tried to keep him away from this room as hard as I could. I came up with every excuse,” she snapped.

Dr. Li clears her throat, and continued, much more in control now.

“They _cannot_ know about Persephone’s true nature. Seeing how they relied on her to carry out the work their soldiers should’ve been doing, they might exploit her for this too.”

“Exploit her _how_? How can I carry on protecting Percy when I’m left in the damn dark?”

DeLoria rubbed his face. “Ah, to hell with it. Doc, we gotta tell him. And I know there are some details you’re holding back from me too.”

My eyes flick towards the greaser. “Tell me what? What the hell is going on?“

“Calm down,” Li asserts, stern, that no-nonsense expression present on her face again. She looks outside to see if anyone was eavesdropping, and turned every surface over, even checking under Percy’s bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking for bugs. What you’re about to hear is information that could put every single one of us in danger,” Dr. Li said, and DeLoria has a grim frown on his face.

What the hell does she know that DeLoria knows, but I don’t?

“Clear. Mr. DeLoria, you start.”

“Okay, doc. Hey, remember the day that I first came to visit here?” DeLoria asks me. I nod.

“Well, a few days before that, Quinn, that ghoul I met when I helped you and Percy to Underworld? He was looking for me in Rivet City. He asked me to deliver some papers to Dr. Li. Said it was from Dr. Barrows.”

 _Barrows?_ What does he have to do with this?

“Quinn said that them Brotherhood tin cans would shoot the hell out of the doc if he showed up in person, so he needed my help. I didn’t want nothing to do with it at first, but he said that it could help Percy.”

“That’s where I come in,” Dr. Li continues, taking a step towards me. “Those documents Barrows gave me were Persephone’s medical records. She left instructions in a written will that if something happens to her that results to her death or incapacitation, I’m allowed to divulge information only to Mr. DeLoria, and you. I can’t keep it a secret any longer. I must tell you both now.”

“Tell us what?”

“The modifications in Persephone’s DNA are starting to manifest. Percy’s father, James? He did this to her. Catherine had so many miscarriages because of the damage years of background radiation did to her body. They wanted a child so badly. James wanted to make sure the next child lives, so he turned to… _dubious_ methods.”

DeLoria joined me in looking at the doctor with skepticism.

“He made Persephone a living weapon. He played god.”

My perception of James shifted as I heard Dr. Li’s confession. Him? The good Christian father, who was in every way supportive of his daughter, _who wanted to give an entire Wasteland drinkable water,_ was a mad scientist who was playing god with his own flesh and blood?

What the fuck.

“I know what you’ve heard gave you more questions than answers, but bear with me. The specifics of James’ procedures aren’t known to me either,” Dr. Li continues, rummaging inside her labcoat. She produces a holotape, and hands it over to me.

“Give this holotape to Persephone when she wakes up. She deserves to know about James’ past, and the truth about herself. Now, I need to go. I can’t stay any longer.”

Faster than Dr. Li can open the door, I block the exit and corner her, slamming my fist against the wall. She flinches, but she stays firm. In our proximity, the determination in her eyes remind me too much of Percy’s.

“No. You’re going to stay here, and continue being Percy’s doctor,” I tell her, trapping her. 

“Whoa, ease up man,” DeLoria tells me, but I shrug him off. He tries to intervene. Too bad I’m bigger than the both of them.

“You said that the Brotherhood couldn’t find out about Percy’s secret. How can I prevent that if the only doctor that can help her goes and leaves the scribes in charge with their damn needles?”

“Barrows will take over,” Dr. Li insists, looking me in the eye.

I laughed, darkly, bitterly. DeLoria looks fucking spooked, and so did Li.

“ _Barrows?_ Didn’t you hear DeLoria, doctor? They’ll shoot him up as soon as he’s here. They’re bigots. When he replaces you, they’ll kill him to get to Percy. And I’ll have to take every single bastard who tries to touch Percy down, or die trying. Do you want that?”

Dr. Li’s mortified.

“Damn. That’s the longest thing I ever heard you say, and the creepiest fucking laugh ever,” DeLoria comments, and I glare at him.

He shut his mouth.

Multiple emotions flash through the doctor’s face. Taking a breath to steel herself, Dr. Li folds her arms.

“Fine. You’re right.”

I let her loose. DeLoria is distraught, checking on Li as the doctor straightened her coat.

“One more day. I stay for one more day. After that, you need to get her out of here.”


	20. XVIII

February 10, 2278.

The plan is set. DeLoria went ahead and travelled to Underworld yesterday to tell Dr. Barrows that we are planning to transfer Percy. It will happen tomorrow, at night, when the courtyard is clear, and the tin cans are sleeping. Our only problem would be the night guards.

Logistics won’t be a problem. Dr. Li said that the machines that I thought was keeping Percy alive were just there to monitor her, and that she can live without them. Barrows will know what to do. He revived Reilly, the wounded, comatose merc leader Percy and I helped a few months back, after all. Maybe he can wake Percy up too? Dammit.

I’m not sure how we will pull this off, but screw it. Anything’s better than scribes probing and poking my partner with their needles.

I was servicing my shotgun this afternoon when Dr. Li stepped in the room. She looks at me with scrutiny, carrying a bag. I assume she’s preparing to leave. She’s not wearing her lab coat. It would be impractical for travel, anyway.

“Charon, was it? May I have a word with you, before I leave Persephone in your hands?”

I nod, not looking up from my task.

“What are you to her?”

Well, that made me pause.

“I’m her partner. That’s all you need to know.”

The doctor drags a chair and sits in front of me. I look up, and she looks pensive, her frown similar to Percy’s when she was waiting for the results of her lab test.

“I told you before, I’m not sure about the nature of the relationship the two of you have, and it’s probably not in my best interest to pry. But I’ll be frank. I’m seeing signs of codependency.”

My eyes don’t leave her, demanding her to explain in silence.

“Your world revolves around her. Almost to a point of  _ obsessiveness _ . That isn’t healthy. Persephone doesn’t seem the type to enable that… but I can be wrong.”

Something twists in my gut.

There’s a little truth to what she’s saying, about how my world revolves around Percy ever since she waltzed in the Ninth Circle in September, and that makes it sting more than it should.

But she knows fucking nothing about what Percy and I went through to get where we are now.

“I don’t care. I don’t have to explain anything to you. Go away.”

Dr. Li looks at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “Fine. I just want to let you know that I’ve been put in a similar situation before. With her father, James.”

I guess first impressions can be deceiving.  _ What else had James done? _

“If Persephone is anything like her father, get out while you can,” Dr. Li tells me, voice barely a whisper, but she’s firm.

This time, I stand up and glare at her. I towered over her, but she kept seated to her chair, defiant.

“I didn’t know James much. But if there’s someone I certainly know, it’s Percy. She’s not her father. Give her some damn credit.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“This is the only thing I’ll say to you, doctor: she wanted me to have a life of my own.”

Dr. Li gave me a faint smile, but the relief in her eyes is telling.

“I suppose I can give the two of you the benefit of the doubt.”

She stands up and straightens her clothes, puts back the chair where it was, and heads to the door.

“One last thing,” she says, looking over her shoulder.

“If Persephone wakes up, tell her not to look for me.”

I didn’t respond. I just nodded.

Li’s words lingered on my mind throughout the afternoon. “If?” No.  _ When _ . Percy’s waking up.

...it’s too late. My mind wanders to a possibility of a future without her.

I stand up, parting the plastic curtains around her bed, and take a long, hard look at her. The muscles of her face relaxed, expression blank in her sleep.  _ Almost lifeless. _

Usually, her brows would be knitted in concentration, like when she’s figuring out how to use fission batteries to power the motorcycle she’s tinkering with, or when she’s cleaning up a wound I have from shielding her against gunshots.

One look at her eyes, and I can tell when she’s afraid, angry, or just happy to see me. The more I think about it, the more I realize how I missed the cues. My eyes weren’t the only ones lingering on her more than necessary. She does that to me too. Whether what she felt for me is the same as I feel for her, the desire and the fondness, it did not matter. The trust and devotion in them are enough.

When she’s not using her voice to express her anger or frustration, her mouth’s usually smiling, grinning, or open in her laughter. Kind words came out of it for the dog, the kids in Big Town and Lamplight, Gob, Nova, and even Moira from Megaton, and  _ me _ . Above all, it’s sweet, as I found out before she ran in the chamber.

I try to imagine a world without her, and the knife twists deeper into my gut.

I remember the question she asked me, on New Years’ Eve.

December 31, 2277.

The last day of the year, and I’m back to where I was when it started, but with better company.

The stench of alcohol and jet-addled sweat no longer lingered in the Ninth Circle. I don’t think I can even call it that now that the sign is gone. Ahzrukhal’s shelf of watered-down piss was cleaned out in favor of a common pantry. A section was being separated by sheets, converted to a common house with a number of beds and mattresses. The tables and chairs still remained, where ghouls can sit down and rest, if they desire.

DeLoria was sitting in the corner, looking utterly fucking lost. The only other human in the room was that relic hunter Percy accompanied while looking for a piece of parchment, and she wanted nothing to do with him. At least the dog kept him company.

The greaser sighed in relief when he saw me and Percy.

“About time,” he greets, patting Percy in the back and giving me an acknowledging nod. “Watching you mope and cry because he wouldn’t wake up has gotten boring.”

“Shut the fuck up, Butch,” Percy replies in jest, punching the boy’s arm.

For some reason, it’s comforting to see that these two are at it again.

Percy drops to a knee to give Dogmeat a long hug and kisses on his forehead. Then, the dog comes over to me too, and I carry him, allowing the mutt to lick my face with affection.

“At least give me credit for showing up to rescue your asses,  _ Grognak _ .”

“Grognak? You came up with that all by yourself?”

“Yeah? You sure as hell looked like him when you smeared them mercs against the floor and carried Charon all the way here,” DeLoria teases, making clubbing motions with his arms.

“If my dog didn’t run away and left you panting after him, you wouldn’t have found us. I should be thanking him,” Percy teases back.

Butch pouts and I couldn’t find the strength to hold back a snicker. Percy ruffles his hair and laughs, earning her a hard glare.

“Hey, watch the hair!”

“Thank you, Butch,” Percy finally relents, offering Butch a smile. Then, she turns at me with an expectant look.

“...thank you,” was all I could say. He’s not so bad. Maybe.

“And thank  _ you _ ,” Percy coos at Dogmeat, voice pitched a few octaves up, ruffling his ears as I held him.

“Isn’t that right, boy? Who’s the smartest, bravest, and toughest doggy in the whole wasteland? You are!”

Dogmeat gives my friend some licks and happy barks. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Holy shit, I think I’m gonna barf,” DeLoria remarks, pretending to dry heave.

“Fuck off, Butch. I’m trying to spoil my baby here.”

They fought for the entire afternoon.

We spent the rest of the night in Underworld, under doctor’s orders not to engage in anything strenuous. Butch got to know the local ghouls, and though he still looks half-terrified at the sight of my people, he’s polite enough not to call them zombies. Probably because Percy punched him when he called me one, or he’s outnumbered. Might be both.

Carol was thrilled to see us again, giving Percy a hug that she reciprocates just as hard. Percy lapped up all her attention. Carol’s probably the closest thing she has to a mother now.

We were having dinner when Percy brought it up.

“I can’t believe this is my first time counting down to the New Year in the wasteland,” she comments, chewing on… whatever the hell we were eating.

“Huh. You’re right,” Butch adds, wiping the grease off his mouth.

“We should celebrate!” Percy quips, enthusiastic. “Maybe we could take us to Tulip’s place and get new stuff for the new year. We never really had that much stuff in the vault, did we Butch?”

“Yeah, they were mostly shitty hand-me-downs. But, uh, I’m still kinda broke Perce. It was supposed to be my first day on the job days ago but all that shit happened…”

Percy blinks, and wipes her lips with a handkerchief. “C’mon boys, let’s go shopping. My treat.”

“For real?” Butch asks, looking a little giddy.

“Are you complaining?”

“No.”

“Let’s go then.”

We went to Tulip in Underworld Outfitters. She was glad to see Percy as usual. While they caught up with each other, DeLoria got a new pair of jeans and a shirt.

Percy found a tattered red scarf. My friend ran her fingers against the fabric, lingering where the holes are.

“I’ll learn how to sew, and I’ll patch you up in no time,” she says to no one in particular. The greaser rolls his eyes.

“Still talking to things, I see,” he teases her.

“No I’m not. I don’t talk to inanimate objects.”

I snort, and join DeLoria. “Yes you do, Percy.”

She crosses her arms and pouts. “Yeah? Name one time.”

“You were talking to that robot you were fixing for the Big Town kids,” I say, and Butch gives me a conspirational look.

“Ha! And you used to talk to them plants in the hydrowhatever garden in the vault too.”

“ _ Hydroponics. _ Plants tend to grow better when you give them extra attention, you know,” Percy retorts, cheeks going red.

“You used to talk to Mr. Bubbles,” Butch cuts in, and Percy gives him a playful jab.

“You were talking to your Mr. Handy while it was shut down for repairs,” I chime in, and Percy lets out a mock gasp.

“Not you too, Charon! I can’t believe it, you two are teaming up on me,” she laughs, running a hand through her hair. Butch was laughing, and Tulip was looking pretty amused as well.

“You vaulties bicker like a married couple,” Tulip comments.

DeLoria smirks, wagging his eyebrow, while Percy rolls her eyes and huffs. Yeah, they’d make a nice married smoothskin couple. A beautiful smoothskin girl with a smoothskin pretty boy.

Just how things are supposed to be.

“More like a caveman arguing with an astronaut,” Percy scoffs. 

“For the record,  _ you’re  _ the caveman, Grognak.”

Putting a hand on her hip, Percy flips DeLoria the bird and looks around for other items. Then, she turns to me, a black shirt in her hand.

“Try it on, big guy. You could use some more clothes,” she says, and I nod.

I take off my shirt and put the new one on. It covers me, but the sleeves are too tight for my liking. I turned to Percy and caught her eyes flick down for a brief moment before looking me in the eye.

“So, is it comfortable?”

“It’s fine. The sleeves are too tight.”

“I’ll just cut them off. We can use the scraps for cleaning,” she replies, eyes averting mine. She clears her throat and goes back to Tulip’s counter. Butch was leaning in the corner, nose wrinkled, avoiding looking at either of us.

Yeah, pretty boy’s jealousy is showing again. It will never stop amusing me.

We left after Percy paid for the items. She looks at her PipBoy display and smiles.

“It’s almost midnight,” she says, and she turns to me. “Hey Charon, know a place where we can get away from all the noise?”

I think about it. “I know a way to the rooftop.”

“Nice. C’mon, let’s get some air.”

“The air’s gonna kill us, Perce,” Butch remarks, and Percy rolls her eyes at him.

“Says the smoker,” she replies.

Percy and Butch fucking bickered again as I led them outside, to an exterior fire escape. We climbed up the stairs until we reached the top in a single file; I’m in front, Percy in the middle, and DeLoria at the rear. I had to carry Dogmeat. He was terrified. Shaking.

We sit on the edge of the roof, Percy in the middle, and the dog on my lap. Percy produces some bottles of Nuka, whiskey, and scotch from her bag, along with some packets of food. Butch ate a snack cake in one bite and chases it down with whiskey. Percy unscrews the scotch, drinks straight from the bottle, and shudders. She passes the bottle to me and I take a long swig of the stuff.

“New Year's in the vault was boring,” Butch comments, looking in the distance. There were Super Mutants roaming about. “It's always streamers and trumpets. I wanted to see what the fireworks looked like.”

“Fireworks will set the vault on fire,” Percy replies as she grabs her Gauss rifle and loads it with a microfusion cell. “I don’t think anyone produces them now, either.”

“But,” she says as she lies on her belly and angles her rifle downwards. “We have ammo.”

A mutant fell in the distance. The big, dumb, green bastards never knew where the shot came from.

“How did you celebrate New Year's way back, Charon?” Percy asks.

Huh.

“We used to put up trees.”

“Well, we can’t do that unless we get a vertibird to Oasis and chop one down,” she chuckles.

People also kissed as the clock struck twelve, but I didn’t tell her that.

“Let’s just make our own traditions then,” Percy continues. “Like shooting up these guys.”

Aside from Percy’s gunshots, we’re silent, drinking and eating as we waited the minutes away.

“So, what are you guys planning to do this year?”

Butch puffs out his chest. “I’m gonna lead a gang. The Tunnel Snakes are gonna slither again!”

Percy chuckles softly.

“That’s a start. When this is all over, I’ll start my own garden. What about you, Charon?”

What kind of question is that?

“I go where you go.”

Percy sits and looks at me.

_ “Don’t you have plans of your own?” _


	21. XIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God. Thank you for 1000 hits! I've drawn something to commemorate the milestone [here!](https://adarlingmess.tumblr.com/post/635291682852814848/my-fo3-fic-absolution-hit-1k-hits-so-i-sketched)
> 
> This fic was just supposed to be a two-shot of Percy and Charon's first meeting, and the moment they share before Percy runs into the chamber. Now as of this chapter, it's 47500 words long. Phew. Thanks for sticking with me through this! I've never written anything this long.
> 
> Anyway, I had some difficulties writing this chapter but Meg Myers and morgxn's song [i hope you cry](https://open.spotify.com/track/2tTEDjnPfirgcxyQZ54eXb?si=W9FnIIW4R3m6xciXsp8Mcg) got me out of the rut. I think the song encompasses how the main duo feels in this chapter.

January 4, 2278.

Time to look for the GECK.

Percy said that it stands for “Garden of Eden Creation Kit.” It’s supposed to be the thing that’ll make Project Purity work. She knows about it better; there are words she used that I didn’t understand.

There’s one in Vault 87, but that shithole’s irradiated to hell and back. Percy said that it’ll kill her despite the mutation in her genes. She will cook before her body can even recover.

So, we have to go through a place called Lamplight Caverns. It’s on the western side of the map, a long way from Underworld. We’ve been travelling for a few days now. When we finally arrived, it’s cold, and snowing. Good thing Percy went back to Tulip’s shop for some winter clothes before we left the city. Even Dogmeat has a scarf now.

As we arrived in Lamplight, a boy with a rifle shouted at us at the entrance, threatening to fire.

“Hold it right there! Don’t take another step, or we’ll blow your fucking head off!” he shouts at us. Percy holds her hands in the air and looks at me with eyes wide in surprise.

Damn. This kid’s mouth is almost as filthy as Percy’s.

“Whoa, hold on there, I’m a friend,” Percy says to the kid, holding back her laughter.

“You're big, and I don't have any big friends. You better just go out the way you came in,” the kid replies, still pointing his rifle at us.

“Well, it’s time for you to make big friends. I’m Percy, and this is Charon. Our dog’s name is Dogmeat. What’s your name?”

“I'm MacCready. I run Little Lamplight, because they made me the mayor. And I don't like strangers. Or mungos.”

At this point I got curious. “The hell’s a mungo?” I ask him.

“You are, mungo! You adults are tall and clumsy and we don’t want anything to do with you,” MacCready spits back. Percy loses it and giggles.

“Wow, and I thought _ I _ was an angry kid. Listen, we just need to get to Vault 87, and the only safe route is through your town. We promise not to bother anyone. So, may we come in? Please?” she asks.

The kid holsters his rifle, and he looks surprised. “What? Why would you wanna do that? That’s where the monsters are,” he tells us, voice low.

“We can get rid of the monsters for you.”

MacCready rolls his eyes. “Sorry, mungo, but we don’t trust you.”

Percy groans at this point, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eye. “How will we get you to trust us?”

“Why would I fucking trust you? I’ve got no reason to. I ain’t gonna let what happened to Penny, Sammy, and Squirrel happen to anyone else, so take a hike. You mungos are nothing but trouble.”

Percy’s eyes are alert. I can almost see the cogs working in her head. “What happened to your friends?”

“They got caught, by mungos! Slavers from Paradise Falls. I told them to be careful but the stupid kids didn’t listen!”

That is one frustrated kid.

With a conspiring look, Percy turns to me, then back to MacCready.

“What if we save them? We’ve got a bone to pick with those slavers, too.”

MacCready falters. “You’d… you’d do that?”

Percy nudges me.

“Yeah. I’ll unload an entire clip on those bastards who took your friends,” I tell him, and he gives me a grin.

“You’re one scary motherfucker, and those assholes deserve getting shot. Fine, if you bring my friends back, I might let you in.”

“Looks like we have a lot of people to free, Charon.”

What Percy said made me recall our conversation at the museum rooftop days ago.

January 1, 2278.

It was the start of a new year, and I’m in a better place than the last one.

A kind, beautiful, smoothskin angel came into my life and purchased my contract from the evil bastard that held it for fifteen years. Under her employment, I’ve experienced liberties I never had, and experienced emotions I’d never thought I will. I’m sitting on the rooftop of the Museum of History, sharing a scotch with her, tasting her breath on my lips.

Life is good, for the first time in centuries.

But she just  _ had _ to ask that question, didn’t she?

_ “Don’t you have plans of your own?” _

I never had plans of my own. The contract made sure of that. I carry the will of whoever held it. I know I’m supposed to tell her that, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

She’s still waiting for an answer. How will I answer this?

DeLoria was already blackout drunk on a bedroll a few feet away from us with the dog, so I wouldn’t have to worry about him hearing about the conversation I’m having with Percy. I sat in silence beside her, contemplating what kind of answer I shall give her.

“I told you. I’ll stay by your side as long as you will have me.”

Percy is frowning, the same pitying look she gave me in Megaton coming back. I didn’t want to see that. I didn’t need to be pitied.

“None at all? Like, even something small? Like finishing a new book? Anything you want to do?”

I pondered at her questions. Percy is the only employer I had who let me make my own decisions. Come to think of it… I never really thought of the future unless it’s short term, such as planning how we will storm a base full of super mutants, or what will we hunt for dinner. Not until now. There’s no future for me. There is only the contract.

I tell Percy that, and she leans her head on my shoulder.

“I’m not gonna be around forever, big guy. You need a life of your own.”

For some reason, what she said stings.

“If you’re planning to sell my contract in the future, Percy, I will not take it personally. It is my directive to serve who holds it. Should you not need me anymore, I shall understand.”

Percy looks up to me and gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“No, Charon. I’m trying to find a way to free you of your contract. So you can move on.”

_ Free me? _

_ Of my contract? _

_ Move on? _

What the hell is she talking about?

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, miss.”

I haven’t called her ‘miss’ for a while now. I saw her shoulders sag when I called her that, but then, she looked at me with that determined glare.

“Hey, you disobeyed an order. It seems small, but it’s a significant improvement. We can start from there.”

_ I did? _

“If I did, it’s certainly accidental and won’t happen again.”

Percy places a finger against my ruined lips. I felt myself twitch at the smoothness of her skin, sweating from the places where I still had skin. She draws closer. I can smell the scotch, the Abraxo on her clothes, and a scent that was hers alone. Her lips are wet from the scotch, and her eyes bright.

I want to reach out to grab her and claim her lips. But I could not.  _ Should not _ .

“It didn’t happen while I was holding your contract. It happened when the Talons did. You didn’t kill me even when one of them directly ordered you to.”

_ Fuck, she’s right. I remember now. _

The gravity of the realization felt like a brahmin stepping on my chest.

“Miss...”

“No. Call me Percy. You’re not calling me ‘miss’ again.”

“Percy, this is bad. I disobeyed an order intentionally. I am  _ compromised _ ,” I tell her, reaching for my shotgun, as I’ve been conditioned to do.

“Compromised?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“My non-obedience could compromise you too. When the others who went under the same training I received are compromised, they are terminated.”

Percy eyes the shotgun in my hands. She jumps to grab it before I can do anything with it and tosses it aside. “No, no, no, let’s get this away from you. No termination is going to happen tonight, or ever.”

“Percy, if I disobeyed an order from them, it means that I can disobey an order from  _ you _ too.”

She stands up, paces around and throws her hands in the air like she always does when she’s frustrated.

“That’s the point! I don’t want you to just obey me. I don’t want you to be just a bodyguard. I don’t want you to be just a living weapon,” she yells as she walks back to me.

“Percy, sit down. You’ve had enough to drink,” I try to dismiss her, fearing the ideas she’s instilling in my head.

“Stop making me feel like I don’t know what I’m doing! Yes, I sometimes say stupid things and do embarrasing shit when I’m drinking, but this is the most honest and raw you will get me,” she cries.

I relent. I didn’t say a word further.

“We’re not fucking Herbert ‘Daring’ Dashwood and his ghoul manservant Argyle from that cheesy radio drama Three Dog fucking loves to play. You’re not just the ‘Lone Wanderer’s’ sidekick, you’re not just hired muscle, and you’re definitely not just a slave like so many people in the wasteland claiming you to be. You’re  _ you _ . You’re  _ Charon _ .”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say to her.

“I want you to be free. To take a path of your own. And if you still want to be with me, I want to be in your life not as your boss. I want us to be equals. I want to be your  _ partner _ .”

Tears are rolling down her cheeks and it’s catching the moonlight. I’m still speechless. She collapses in front of me, on her knees, and she takes my hand.

“ _ Please? _ ”

My mind was blank. I just closed my hand around hers and pulled her closer, her warmth settling against my chest. I dwarfed her as I pressed her closer.

“Percy,  _ angel _ , even if I wanted to be released from the contract… I’m not sure if we can undo all that conditioning.”

“We’ll take things one step at a time, like we always do,” she says in between sniffles.

Percy removes her PipBoy glove and fishes out my contract, an old piece of paper, yellowed at the edges.

“This stupid thing says that if anyone attempts to destroy your contract, you have to kill them,” she slurs, pointing to a string of text. I’m still learning to read, but I knew the words by heart.

Percy’s finger moves to another line. “And this one says that you must protect this contract with your life.”

I nod at Percy.

“Of course, me attempting to get rid of it will just lead us to killing each other. It’s written in a way that doesn’t let you out of it. Fuck, it doesn’t even have an exit clause for you, but it has one for me.”

“What’s an exit clause?” I ask her, while resting my chin on top of her head.

“It basically invalidates the contract. Here,” she points near the bottom of the paper. “This is where it says that physical violence on my part invalidates my entitlement to the contract.”

“I see.”

“But there’s no such thing for you written here. There’s nothing that can absolve you from it.”

I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t deflate from that statement.

“Which means, this is a choice you have to make for yourself, Charon.”

I gulped.

I didn’t make my own choices. They were made for me. The government made it for me when they signed me up for the indoctrination camp, and it’s been that way for around 200 years. Sure, Percy lets me make my own ones on things like dinner, but nothing this big.

I’ve been having mutinous thoughts ever since the slavers used me as their hunting dog, fifteen years ago. The pleads of the people. The cries of the escaped slaves. I can’t count how many hours of sleep I lost thinking about them. I’m responsible for their misery, because those fucking slavers held my contract.

I remember that security chief in Rivet City, Harkness. The synth who broke free from his masters and assumed a new identity.

How did he do it again?

  
  


November 3, 2277.

The trail was getting clearer. Percy was close to discovering the identity of the escaped robot that the arrogant business-type guy in Dr. Li’s lab was looking for. The asshole’s name’s Zimmer, and the robot in question is called AR-23. A woman who introduced herself as a member of the Railroad pleaded for her to stop her investigation, but Percy was insistent in warning the synth.

Percy’s reason was that if Zimmer found someone with a lesser conscience, the robot in question would be blindsided and ripped away from his new life. It’s just like her reasoning when she defended me from the people of Underworld for killing Ahzrukhal.

Percy said she was going to look for a man called Pinkerton in his secret lab that’s only accessible from underwater. Her investigation led her to believing that he was the one who was responsible for helping the synth escape. She had me and the dog wait on the banks of the river, and she dove into the murky water in that environment suit Moira Brown gave her after she irradiated herself for their experiments.

I was worried as fuck. She had no prior experience swimming.

When she re-emerged some time later, Percy, distraught, told me that AR-23 is Harkness.

We rushed to meet him.

When Percy used the recall code on Harkness, he started telling us about the things the escaped synths instilled in him.

Concepts of freedom.

Self-determination.

My friend and I helped him get rid of Zimmer. I remember unloading a shotgun blast through the old man’s stomach. After gifting Percy his beloved plasma rifle, Harkness continued on as normal.

That night, we went to Arlington Library, and it was the first time Percy ever suggested getting rid of the contract.

“Big guy, if Harkness could outgrow his programming, do you think you can defy your contract too?”

I remember grunting at her with annoyance.

“If disobedience is among your concerns, it’s unfounded. I will remain loyal to you as long as you hold my contract.”

Percy tilted her head at me. “That’s not what I- never mind.”

She spent the night scouring for pre-war books about the law.

Now, I see the weight her words and actions carried back then.

She had been planning this all along.

_ She always wanted to set me free. _

“When you’re ready, we’ll get rid of this stupid piece of paper together,” Percy mutters, pulling me away from my thoughts.

I was thankful that she didn’t look up. My eyes were wet.

I blinked the tears away.

“I look forward to it.”

  
  



	22. XX

January 4, 2278.

I followed Percy outside the Lamplight Caverns, trying to match the pace of her footsteps. Her shoulders are all tensed up again, and I just know a storm’s brewing in her head. I reached out to touch her shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Percy, how are we going to rescue those children from Paradise Falls?”

“Simple. We sneak in, free the slaves, and fuck the place up so no slaver can set foot in it again. Then we escort the kids back to Lamplight so we can proceed with retrieving the GECK.”

I shook my head. “Percy, that’s easier said than done. If we’re going to take down Paradise Falls, we need coordinated attacks. Inside information. Tactics. Rushing in would be foolish,” I tell her.

My friend gives me a sour look, but it melts into a pout. “You’re right. Shit, how are we going to pull this off?”

“May I suggest something?” I ask her. Her face lights up, lips curling into a smile.

“You know I appreciate all your suggestions,” Percy responds, bumping her arm against mine. The corner of my mouth twitches upward before I can stop myself.

“We need inside information. A layout of the place would be a good start. Then we figure out tactics. Our attack must be coordinated,” I tell her.

Percy pushes her glasses up, brows furrowing. “Yes. We’ll need to take care of logistics too. Ammunition. Medicine.”

Then she pauses, opens her mouth, and closes it again.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Charon,” she starts, rubbing the back of her neck. “You said that slavers used to hold your contract years ago, yes?”

My throat tightens, but I nod.

“Then, do you happen to remember details about the place?”

I blink at Percy a few times, the holes in my memory screwing things up again. I couldn’t say anything.

“It’s okay big guy, don’t force yourself. Just tell me when you remember something,” my friend responds.

We continue walking.

The sun is high up in the sky, but it isn’t warm. Flakes of snow land on me and turn into water droplets. The days are getting colder, and though the radiation in my body and the lack of nerves on the parts of myself that didn’t have skin made me more resistant to it, I can still feel it in my bones.

We pause at the side of the road. Thankfully, the cold meant creatures stayed in their burrows, and raiders kept mostly to their camps, near the fires. Percy takes out the scarf she got from Tulip’s shop and wraps it around her neck. It must’ve been musty; she wrinkled her nose when she took her first inhale. I snorted softly at her reaction. Then, she reaches into her pack again and tosses me a hat.

“I thought you might like it,” she tells me as I look at the hat in my hands. “It’s an ushanka. You don’t have much hair to keep your head warm, and this hat has flaps on the side. I think you’ll like it.”

Something stirs in my chest. It wasn’t unpleasant… but it made me long for a life I lost centuries ago.

“My father used to wear one.”

Percy’s eyes lit up. “Oh. What was he like?”

“Tall. Strong. His hair was red,” I told her as I put the hat on.

It’s as cozy as I imagined. I felt like a child again.

When I tried my father’s hat on, it was too big for me. He said that one day I’ll be big like him and grow into it.

That day never came.

“Like you.”

I didn’t respond. I just bumped my arm against hers.

“I’ve read in a book in Arlington that those things came from a place called Russia. Have you ever been there, Charon?”

“No. But my parents came from that place.”

“Oh. Do you still remember the language? Or the culture?”

I hummed. “Barely. We used to speak it at home… but that was a very long time ago. There was a lullaby my mother used to sing to me, but I cannot remember all the words.”

“Was that the song you hummed to me, when I was grieving my dad?”

“Yes.”

Percy sighs and stretches her hands over her head, and they land on her sides with a muffled thud. “It’s a beautiful melody. So many things lost to war…”

I kept quiet, looking away. There are horrid things about wars I didn’t want to remember.

“Sorry for the rambling. I was thinking about dad.”

“Nothing to apologize for.”

Percy flashes me a smile. “Remember the day we got Dad out of Vault 112? He immediately ran off to get back to Rivet City and we had to tail him without stopping. He even took out a Super Mutant with a rebar club he picked up…  _ Jesus _ .”

I remember that. James was pretty tough, for a doctor. Like Percy. Now I know where she gets it from.

“I guess I am my father’s daughter. I was so ready to dive into things. Like that book I wrote with Moira…”

“...that made you sick for days,” I interrupt, and she laughs.

“Yeah. Admittedly, that was pretty impulsive  _ and _ stupid of me. And now I almost rushed into storming Paradise Falls. Dad used to be my impulse control when we were in the vault. I was just thinking, what would Dad say if he were still here? I used to live off of his advice...”

Without thinking, I put my arm around Percy’s shoulder, her small frame bumping into my side, and she lets out a soft grunt. Then, she laughs, and wraps her arm around my waist.

“I’ll make sure you won’t run off to do anything rash.”

“I’m glad you’re around, Charon.”

I didn’t respond. I just smiled. I hope she didn’t see it.

As we continued our trek back to Megaton, Percy said something that made me remember a detail about Paradise Falls.

“Dad probably would tell me to stock up on medical supplies. Remind me to go to Doc Church’s clinic when we get back. We might need Med-X. Lot’s of it.”

Doc Church.

_ Paradise Falls. _

Wait a damn minute.

September 28, 2277.

I guess I’m a fucking babysitter now.

This girl that I’m supposed to protect and keep out of harm’s way just couldn’t stop getting herself in trouble now, couldn’t she?

I’d understand if it were due to raiders or wasteland creatures. But no, she just had to get herself sick from drinking that fucking atomic bomb water, and as if the radiation wasn’t enough, she had to contract a disease from it too. Stupid.

If it wasn’t for the contract, I would’ve let her sorry ass suffer the consequences of her foolishness. For someone who’s so smart, couldn’t she just explain the effects of radiation to that egghead who asked her to irradiate herself “for science”? It also doesn’t fucking help that she jumped off the railings to cripple her legs for that “scientist” too. It was a miracle that she didn’t receive any permanent injuries from that.

God fucking dammit. What she’s doing is borderline suicidal.

Her illness delayed our plans, as well. We were supposed to be in Rivet City by now. Instead, she’s feverish and looking miserable on the couch, the dog whining as she groaned and grumbled. Dogmeat licks her face, and she buries it in the dog’s fur.

Days ago, I noticed how small she really was, and now she looks even smaller, legs pressed against her chest, curled under a tattered blanket.

A pang of guilt twists in me for even thinking of abandoning her. She’s my employer, and she has been good to me so far. I shouldn’t think of such a thing.

But she’s making it difficult for me to do my damn job.

Sluggish, she stands up, and reaches for her jacket, the one with the snake embroidery on the back. Percy shuffles to the door, and I follow her.

“Miss, you are in no condition to be up.”

“I just need to get more antibiotics from the clinic, if the doc has any left,” she croaks. Her voice is hoarse from all the vomiting she did from her hangover  _ and _ her illness.

I’d pity her, if she didn’t inflict it on herself.

“As you wish,” I replied.

We left the dog at home, who took the warm spot where she used to lie. I had to help her through the downward path from her house to the town clinic, making sure that she doesn’t stumble and fall, her arm around my waist. I look down and see the top of her head, her black hair tousled.

I had an urge to smooth it out with my hands, but of course I didn’t act on it.

I went inside the clinic first, opening the door for my mistress. The doctor didn’t glance up from his clipboard.

“Unless you’re dying, I don’t want to hear anything about-”

When he looked up, it took one look at me for him to stop his bitching, eyes wide.

I narrowed my eyes.

I swear I’ve seen his face before, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Doc,” Percy croaks, voice cracking. “Do you still have antibiotics? Need a refill.”

The doctor clears his throat.

“That’s what you get for drinking the water from the crater with those Church of Atom folks,” he grumbles, standing up from his seat and heading inside his office. He comes back with a bottle of pills, which he gives to Percy.

As Percy was counting her caps, I can see the sweat on the doctor’s forehead as he watched me.

“Does he need anything too?”

“Oh, no. He’s my bodyguard,” Percy replies. “Charon, meet Doc Church.”

As soon as Percy hands him the caps, he hurriedly shows us the door.   
  


Now I remember why he was so nervous.

“Wait. Church used to offer his medical services for the slavers,” I blurt out, and Percy whirls around.

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem to recognize him the first time you met him in Megaton.”

“Might be the age. If there’s any way I can prove it to you, I am unsure, though.”

Percy furrows her brow. “Let’s hurry back to Megaton. I have an idea.”

When we arrived in Megaton, it was already dark. The shops are closed, and Church’s clinic is closed as well. After dumping our equipment in the house, I followed Percy to Gob’s Saloon. Her footsteps are heavier than usual from her haste.

We got in, and there were a few patrons lounging about, but it was quiet. Gob’s face lights up at the sight of my friend.

“Percy! Good to see you,” he greets, and Percy nods at him.

“Hey. Gob, we need to talk,” Percy tells him. “In private. It’s important.”

With apprehension, Gob leads us to a room behind the bar, and Nova takes over for a moment. It’s a narrow room with a terminal adjacent to a back door, something that’s rare in Megaton. The other structures have single entry and exit points.

“Are Moriarty’s files still there?” Percy asks him.

“I haven’t touched the thing at all, smoothskin. I thought of letting Moira tinker with it so I can use it to keep track of tabs, but the thing just reminds me of Moriarty.”

Percy sighs in relief. “Well, thank whatever the fuck’s out there that they’re still here. Do you have his password?”

“I already threw the paper away. Sorry, Percy.”

Rolling her sleeves, Percy powers on the terminal and begins typing away. “It’s fine.”

Gob looks over Percy’s shoulder, eyes flicking to the text on the screen. “What do you need the files for, anyway?”

“Moriarty’s got dirt on almost everyone here and the prick was more than willing to rub it in my face. I’m trying to get information on someone,” my friend replies, flicking a stray lock of her hair away from her face. “Aha, there we are.”

Her face is inscrutable.

“Charon, you’re right,” she tells me, her eyes still on the screen.

“Can you please slow down and tell me what’s going on?” Gob asks, scratching the little skin he had left on his cheek. “This is all so sudden, Percy. Sorry.”

My friend and I look at each other. We know the other ghoul was trustworthy. There was a silent agreement between us.

“Promise to keep quiet about this? It could put all of us in danger.”

Gob nods enthusiastically.

“We’re going to take down Paradise Falls,” she says, and Gob’s eyes widens.

“Whoa, Percy, I know the two of you are badasses, but how are you gonna do that?”

“That’s what we’re figuring out. First, we gotta know the place inside and out, so we’ll know where to come and go,” Percy responds.

“That’s… actually pretty smart, wow.”

“It’s Charon’s idea,” she adds, nudging my arm with her elbow. I can feel my lips curling into a smile again, but this time I fought the urge.

“We’ll also need a rendezvous point while planning this operation out,” I add, and both of them turn to me. “This room is secure, and the back entry makes it ideal for whoever is involved in the operation to come and go in the cover of night. I suggest we meet here for a week, if Gob will allow it.”

Grinning, Percy turns to Gob. “Good idea. What do you say, Gob?”

Gob seemed to hesitate, but he smiled at us. “Y’know, I used to hope I can fight the Good Fight instead of being stuck here. Maybe I can’t go out there and be badass slaver hunters like you guys, but I’d do what I can to help. Sure.”

Percy pulls the other ghoul in an embrace. “Thank you!”

“Hey, it’s nothing smoothskin,” Gob replies, leaning into the embrace.

He probably needed that, but still I can’t help but look away.

“Is a week really all you’ll need, though?”

“I’ve been in operations with less resources and less time to coordinate,” I tell him.

“Anyway, Charon said Doc Church used to patch up slavers. What I saw in Moriarty’s terminal confirms it,” Percy explains.

“What are you gonna do to the doc?” Gob asks, tone wary.

“We’re not gonna hurt him. Whatever he was then, he’s overworked helping Megaton now. Sounds like a man who’s trying to atone. We’re going to use that as leverage to get him to help us.”

Gob rubs his arm. “Be careful, the two of you. Oh man, those slavers probably have connections everywhere. They could get you guys killed.”

A dark glint in her eye, Percy gives Gob a smirk. It was unnerving and fascinating at the same time. I’m certain that this woman is still the same kind and gentle girl I met months ago, but something changed.

“I’d like to see them try.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back from an almost two-week hiatus! One of these days I'm going to figure out a regular update schedule for this fic, but for now, updates will continue to be irregular. I've been working on a um... spicy fan comic involving Charon and my Lone Wanderer and yesterday I published the cover and first two pages. [Come check it out if you want to!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809422/chapters/68083501)


	23. XXI

January 5, 2278.

Fifteen minutes past midnight, we went home. After cleaning up and sharing a dinner of noodles and beer, Percy didn’t waste any time counting all the ammo she saved for emergencies, while I tended to our weapons and gear. Around three in the morning, I was ready to retire, but Percy’s still slouched over the workbench, recycling old microfusion cells as she sipped on scotch, straight from the bottle.

“Percy,” I call her attention, placing a hand at her shoulder.

“Oh!”

I must’ve interrupted her.

“What do you need, big guy?”

“I suggest that you get some rest. Long day tomorrow.”

“Mhmm. Just a few more minutes,” she replies, back still turned against me.

I was ready to get to my room, but then Percy leans her head against my chest. “Charon, what if I die from this?”

My throat tightens at the thought, and I place both hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “You’re not going to. I’m here to ensure that.”   


“Thanks. But let’s say I do. What will happen to you, when your contract holder dies?”

I pause. I let my hands fall to my side. My friend turns around and looks up to me, her glasses cloudy from the cold.

I’m debating myself on whether this should be her business or not. I’ve seen parts of her that shouldn’t be for my eyes. Percy had let me see her at her most vulnerable moments, while she only shows her can-do attitude to everyone else. And yet, she knows so little about me. I think I’m being unfair.

Dammit. This is what I fucking get for letting what I feel about my employers get to me, regardless whether it’s positive or not.

I shouldn’t be divulging information to my employers more than what’s necessary, but when I look at my friend before me, I feel an urge to share the parts of myself I couldn’t even confront.

“Back then, the death of whoever held it meant failure to obey the standing order to protect that person, and would result in my termination as well. But something has changed along the way. The day the bombs fell, we were ordered to hold our contracts, and wait until someone comes to claim it. They never came.”

Percy nods her head, motioning me to continue. I start to pace around, struggling to remember the details after that.

“I… I wandered aimlessly for I don’t know how long. I was dying, lost in a desert when a group of survivors found me. They found my contract, and when I came to, the conditioning kicked in. I will serve them, and will continue to do so until I fail. When I do, the order to hold my contract until someone claims it takes effect again.”

Her brows knitted together, mouth curled into a frown. There’s a sadness in her eyes. She’s pitying me again.

Not pity. I don’t need that.

“You don’t need to pity me,” I said, and her eyes grew wide in surprise.

“I’m not- I don’t pity you, Charon. I’m just trying to imagine what you’ve gone through, and I can’t fathom how terrible that must be.”

“It’s better that you don’t.”

Arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and I freeze in my tracks. Percy’s soft and warm, and she presses against my back. I can feel the tightness in my chest melting away.

“I want to understand you better,” she whispers.

I should be keeping my distance after our talk about our professional relationship in Doc Barrows’ clinic. Instead, I turn around and pull her in an embrace, pressing her face against my chest as gently as possible. I’m not a gentle person, but for this angel, I can try.

Damn, can we stay like this forever?

“Let’s get some rest,” I tell her, and let her go, dragging my feet to my quarters.

“Do you want to sleep next to me again?” Percy asks.

I felt my heart starting to race.

For someone who said that I shouldn’t act on what I feel for her, she’s giving me a lot of mixed signals. I don’t know what to do with them. What does she even want?

One day I’ll get the courage to ask her that to her face, but for now, I just shook my head.

“I wish to be alone with my thoughts,” I tell her, and she nods.

She smiles, but the slump in her shoulders tells me about her dejection.

“Okay. Offer still stands. Good night.”

I couldn’t sleep after that.

Lying on a mattress wasn’t as comforting as it used to be. Or maybe it’s because there isn’t the warm weight of another person next to me.

Fuck.

I’ve gone soft.

I heard a soft sigh through the thin walls of the house, and I was ready to get up and comfort Percy, thinking she was crying again. But I heard her keen and moan, and I lay like a rock in my spot.

Like I said, the walls are thin. This isn’t the first time I can hear her touching herself. I understand that she has her needs; the skin mags she looks out for says enough. It’s not my business.

I’d be lying if I said that the sounds she makes didn’t fuel my imagination for months.

Tossing and turning, I took a ratty blanket and pulled it over my head, intending to block the noise out, and screwed my eyes shut. I hate this feeling. I’ve never felt it before I met this woman. All this… longing.

My eyes shot open when I heard her sigh my name.

So that confirms it.

_ But, why me? _

The previous employers that had used me for pleasure are the unsavory, depraved types. They would never look me in the eye. They’d say degrading shit. They never said my name.

Percy is not one of those. She’s the fucking “Wasteland Avenger” or “Wasteland Angel” or “Savior of the Wastes” or whatever damn epithet people want to give her. People look up to her.

For those reasons, hearing her moan my name feels forbidden.

Her invitation to sleep next to her is becoming more tempting. I know it’s not an invitation to be  _ intimate _ with her, but the past few weeks have been shit. I want something to go right just for damn once.

I heard her gasp my name again and I took it as my cue.

My feet took me to her room as fast as it could. It was dark, save for the sliver of moonlight that seeped through the roof.

“Percy, you called for me?” I ask her.

I hear frantic shifting of fabric, clattering, and her PipBoy light goes off.

“Charon! I uh… um, I thought you were already asleep I- did you…”

I take cautious steps towards the bed, and sit on the edge, the rickety frame creaking under my weight.

“How much did you hear?” she asks me, near whispering.

“Everything,” I said, telling her the truth.

“Wait, all this time you’ve been hearing me- oh God.”

“Yes,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean to. The walls are thin.”

Percy rubs her face, then she squints, reaching for her glasses. She takes a long, hard look at me. Neither of us are breaking the silence; this angel is within my reach and yet she feels so distant.

Finally, she speaks up. “God, this is awkward. Can we pretend none of this ever happened?”

I gulped. I don’t want to.

“No,” I assert, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze. My friend tears her eyes away from me and rubs the back of her neck.

“I guess there’s no point hiding it. I think you’re attractive, Charon.”

My breath hitches at my throat and it comes out as a disbelieving laugh. “Crazy smoothskin.”

Percy chuckles at my remark. 

“What now?” she asks me.

My eyes flick to her lips, to her pale throat, down to the her nipples poking from under her shirt. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to ask her to join me in acting on the dirtiest thoughts I had for her, but the rational part of my mind holds.

“How long?” I dared to ask her.

“I’m not sure. I know I felt something the first time I bumped into you in Underworld. But I haven’t really thought about it until around November. What about you? When did it start?”

“When you walked into Underworld with that stupidly tight stealth armor. I couldn’t stop staring at your ass.”

Percy snorted. “Really?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at myself quietly too.

“What the hell did you find attractive about  _ me _ ?” I ask her, still in disbelief at my damn luck.

“Well… there’s just something about the way you carry yourself I guess?”

I raise a brow in response.

“Your bone structure. You look strong and steady and I like that.”

Now I’m tilting my head and smirking.

“And you’re gruff and scary and intimidating and I find it hot,” she blurts out.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “So you find any tall, scary ghoul you find intimidating hot?”

“God, no. Just you. Always been you.”

The sincerity of her words is too much.

All those months of letting me act on my own accord is starting to kick in. I reach for her face, my rough, radiation-damaged fingers caressing her soft cheek, and she leans into the touch. I dared to press my thumb against her bottom lip, savoring its texture, imagining what it would feel against mine. As gently as I could, I tilt her head, pressed my cheek against her neck, and took a deep breath as her small hands flew to my shoulders, squeezing and kneading the tense muscles.

I press my mouth against her neck and she pushes me away.

“Stop. We should stop. You and I both know acting on what we feel now would screw things up,” she interrupts, somber.

I exhaled sharply, nodding and keeping my distance. “Fine. Then please stop giving me hope.”

“What?”

“This. Touching me, asking me to sleep next to you… I’m starting to think you’re leading me on.”

Percy scoffs at my accusation, crossing her arms.

“I’m not!” Percy exclaims. “I’m just saying that it isn’t a possibility now. Right now, I’m your doctor and employer. It would make our relationship unequal.”

“And I am centuries older than you,” I hissed back at her. “There are people who would consider that astoundingly unequal too.”

“Then that makes it twice as wrong! This isn’t multiplication where you take two negatives and it becomes a positive.”

“I have no idea what the hell you just said,” I snarled. “But what I know is  _ I want you _ . So don’t give me hope unless you’re going to follow through. Please.”

Percy went quiet, still as a statue where she sits. With wide eyes, she gazes into mine.

“Say that again?” she demands.

“Say what again?”

“You said, ‘I want you’. You… you rarely tell me what  _ you _ want.”

Oh.

“God, Charon I  _ want _ you too…” Percy starts, moving to the edge of the bed to sit next to me.

“Fuck whatever the hell people say, you should know by now that I’ll defend you against all the fucking ghoul bigots in the world,” she continues, leaning her head against my bare shoulder.

“Weeks ago I would’ve agreed to this, but things have gotten too crazy. From your contract, to dad dying, to getting jumped by those Talon mercs, to the shit we’re planning for Paradise Falls, to Project fucking Purity… There's too much going on. I don’t want to compromise our objectives because of what I feel.”

“I understand.” My heart’s going to fucking burst from my chest.

“I’m not going to be upset if you don’t want to do this anymore when it’s all over. But, please, could we wait?”

I’d wait forever for her, if I can. I’ve waited two centuries for someone like her without even knowing that I needed it. I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is plain lust or something more, but I need her.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to ruin what I have with you now.”

“What do we have now, Percy?” I ask her.

“I’m not sure. But I told you that I want to be your partner, right? Let’s work on that.”

Grunting in response, I slouch, resting my elbows on my knees. After a few moments, I turned to her again.

“May I still sleep next to you?”

My partner laughs softly, and moves back to her spot on the bed. Her small hand pats the mattress, on the empty space next to her.

“Of course.”

Back turned from each other, she falls asleep first. I could tell from her soft snores.

An hour later, I still couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about the things she said.

I lie facing the door out of habit. During the training I was forced to take part in, it was drilled in our heads, making us better prepared for intruders and ambushes.

Close to sleep, I was alerted by a soft whimper coming from her.

When I turned to look at her, her brows are furrowed and her eyes are screwed shut.

“No,” she murmurs, and I listen closely. “Get away from him… Don’t hurt Charon.”

She’s having a nightmare. About me getting hurt.

Grumbling, I shifted my body so that her back was pressed to my chest, and I draped an arm around her.

“Shh. I’m here, and we're okay,” I whisper.

Percy’s whimpers die down to sighs, and we remain like that for more than a few minutes. I felt dirty, watching her sleep, but seeing her strained face relax eases my nerves.

At some point, I fell asleep. It was a dreamless one.

The next morning, I woke up slowly, eyes adjusting to the brighter rays that came through the cracks on the roof.

A leg is draped over my hip, her face pressed against my chest, and an arm around my waist.

To my surprise, Percy is still asleep next to me. It’s a rare occurence for me to rise earlier than she does.

I look at her PipBoy in the open drawer next to us. Ten fifty two in the morning.

We were supposed to be up by nine.

My hand on her shoulder, I give her a shake. “Percy, wake up.”

My friend stirs awake, stretching her limbs. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven.”

Percy practically jumps out of bed.

“Oh fuck! C’mon, let’s get ready.”

I went to my room. I put on the black shirt Percy gave me, the sleeves already torn away, and proceeded to put on the rest of my armor. As I was walking through the door, I saw the ushanka on the bed side table, and grabbed that too.

Time to talk to Church.


	24. XXII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: murder, death.

January 5, 2278.

Percy tosses aside her wrench and huffs, putting her hands on her waist and admiring her work. “Looks like you’re finally ready,” she says to the motorbike that she has been tinkering with for weeks.

“Now let’s see if you work.”

My partner hums as she leads the cruiser through Megaton’s gate, ignoring gawkers and onlookers. We wear our helmets, which Percy picked up from Moira this afternoon.

She sits on the motorbike seat, exclaims a triumphant “Yes!” when the engine roars to life… and screams when the damn thing went careening around in circles.

I caught her before she could crash, and the bike fell to its side as she got off of it, legs shaking.

“Dammit,” she curses, clinging on to me, breathing hard. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“If it’s too dangerous to use, we can still travel on foot, but it may delay our plans,” I tell her, steadying her to her feet.

“Delaying is not an option we have the luxury to choose now,” Percy sighs, pulling the bike back into position.

“Then I suggest that you navigate with your PipBoy. I’ll drive.”

My partner looks at me curiously. “You know how to ride a bike?”

“Yes. I am proficient in driving pre-war vehicles.”

Percy clears her throat. “Was that a part of your training?”

I run my ruined hands through the driver’s seat’s worn leather, and got on.

“Yes.”

I start the engine, and Percy gets on the passenger seat behind me.

“Now, hold on tight.”

She did as I said, wrapping her arms around my waist, and letting out a surprised scream when we zipped away from the gate.

As we sprinted past jet-addled raiders and freaked-out mole rats, Percy was whooping and laughing, her body warm against by back despite the winter air blowing.

“Holy shit! This is fun!” Percy yells, and I feel her heart pounding through her chest.

I’m glad she’s behind me, or she would’ve seen the smile I had when she held me tighter and leaned on me.

I could get used to this.

As we rode our way to our destination, my mind wandered back to the conversation we had with Doc Church earlier today.

Percy got inside the clinic first, and I followed suit, looming over Church, who was sitting on his desk, looking over a medical clipboard.

“Unless you’re dying I- Oh. It’s you.”

“Doc Church. Do you have any patients with you today?"

“None. I’m not sure how that is any of your concern, though.”

“Charon, guard the door,” Percy instructed me, and Church was about to get up when Percy pressed on his shoulder, forcing him to sit. I lean against the metal and watch the two intently.

“We know about Paradise Falls.”

All the color from the doctor’s face drains.

“You’re training to be a doctor too, am I right? The oath requires me to offer my services to whoever is in need. Slavers included. Even so, I’ve put that all behind me when I opened this clinic in Megaton. Please, don’t hurt me,” Church blurts out, defensive.

“I understand your intention to follow the oath. Don’t worry, we’re not planning to hurt you. In fact, we need your help.”

“Aside from offering my services as a doctor, I have nothing else to offer. I’m sorry.”

My partner turns to me, and nods.

I come forward, cracking my knuckles in a show of intimidation. The old man shrank in his seat even further.

“I know you remember me,” I tell him, and he gulps. “And I know you remember the people you worked for.”

“We need information about Paradise Falls. Names, a layout of the location, and anything that could help us take down the slaver operations there,” Percy continues.

Church’s eyes widen, and he gives us an incredulous look. “Even if I give you the information you need, you _can’t_ take down Paradise Falls, kid. Those slavers have contacts everywhere. You’ll have a target on your back for the rest of your lives.”

Percy shakes her head. She drags a chair and sits in front of the doctor.

“I’ve gotten used to looking over my shoulder and sleeping with one eye open, doc. That doesn’t concern me anymore. What concerns me is there are innocent kids who were snatched from their home by bastards who think that people are a commodity to be sold. I know you think that’s fucked. Why else would you pack up and leave? This is your chance to make things right.”

“Make things right? Kid...”

I felt the urge to speak up. I look at Percy, asking for silent permission, and she seems to understand, taking a step back and allowing me to take the helm.

“Percy is right. Why else would you leave that life behind and start a clinic here, where people needed your help the most? You feel _guilty_ ,” I tell him.

He was as still as a stone.

“You still think about the horrible things you saw in Paradise. You regret being instrumental in keeping those slavers healthy and alive as they hunted down more people to sell as slaves. This is an opportunity to let go of that guilt. You don’t get that chance every day. Don’t waste it.”

“What, do you have psych training now too?” he asks me, mockingly, disbelievingly.

“No,” I tell him. “It’s an observation, from a ghoul who’s in the same boat.”

Tense silence fills the room. Finally, Church relents, taking a pencil from his desk drawer.

“I’ll look for a piece of paper.”

I let out a breath that I was holding. Percy sighs in relief too.

“Thank you,” she says to the doctor.

The old man sketches the layout of Paradise Falls on a yellowed piece of paper, and tells us all he knows about Paradise Falls before his departure.

As he went on, my memories of the place started becoming clearer, but I have no desire to dwell on them.

When we got back to the house, Percy looped her arm around mine. Percy looks at me with those eyes again, filled with trust, devotion, and now… admiration.

“I’m proud of you, big guy.”

I stroked her hair and went on with our preparations.

My mind snapped back to the present as we reached Tenpenny Tower, and I parked the bike as Percy rings the intercom. Taking off my helmet, I look up at the tower, which sticks out like a sore thumb in the Wasteland. The people who lived inside were obsessed with the finer days from before the war. Worse, Tenpenny was a landgrabber, their chief of security, Gustavo, was a gung-ho bigoted bastard, and their doctor made assumptions about ghouls without even looking at one up close.

They reminded me of the people I used to serve, the ones responsible for my indoctrination.

Percy hated them so much.

However, we need all the ammunition we can find, and Gustavo trades them.

“Huh, no one’s answering,” Percy mumbles. She touches the gate lightly, and gasps when it opens on its own.

“Did you think something happened?” she asks me, and I retrieve my shotgun, loading it with bullets.

“I thought you hated those people.”

“Yeah, but, after helping the Warrington station ghouls get in I thought I’d give them a chance to change their mind about ghouls…”

Percy trails off as her eyes scan the courtyard. There were no more human residents present, only the ghouls she helped get in the tower.

“Don’t tell me...”

Gasping, Percy pushes the gate and rushes inside, pushing the heavy double doors open. She runs up to a ghoulette, the one called Bessie Lynn.

“Bessie, where’s the rest of the residents?”

The ghoulette squirms in place, nervous. “Oh, I don’t know where they are. But everything is fine! Roy said not to worry about the other residents.”

I could tell she was lying, and Percy could too, so she moves on, running past the timid woman. Michael Masters, another one of the Warrington ghouls, sits in the lobby.

“Michael!” Percy exclaims. “Where are all the humans?”

The ghoul laughs. “Roy took out the trash. You better steer clear of the basement storage room. I’m glad I lost my sense of smell.”

“He did _fucking_ what?”

Percy brushes past Masters, footsteps heavy as she stomps her way to the basement. As she opened the door, her hands flew to her nose at the stench of rotting bodies.

Most of the corpses were unrecognizable. They were brutalized. The only one I could recognize was the old man’s. Herbert Dashwood. That one was the only human resident who didn’t insult me when we first visited this place.

His face was bloated and decaying. I looked away.

Percy retches, eyes wet and shiny with tears, and I grab her, pulling her out of the room and slamming the door shut behind us.

She was shaking. I pressed her against my chest as she trembled and sobbed.

Then, I heard a mocking laugh. I looked up, and the leader of the Warrington ghouls was strolling towards us. Roy Phillips.

“Hey kid. Thanks again for helping us get in.”

Wiping her tears away, Percy faces him. She wore that expression she had when she talked to Ahzrukhal, when she confronted Wally Mack, and when those Talon mercs ambushed us.

That look on this angel’s face is one of the few things in this world that frightens me.

“Nice pile of bodies in the storage room, Roy,” Percy spits, shoulders tense. “You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Assholes had it coming,” Phillips spat back. “But I don’t answer to you, or any other smoothskin. In fact, you’d best piss off before you join them.”

Muscle memory kicking in, I shield Percy with my body at the bastard’s threat. He looks at me, disgusted.

“What the hell are you even doing, defending this smoothskin? You should be with your fellow ghouls.”

“Charon, this is hopeless. Let’s get out of here,” Percy tells me, touching my arm.

“ _You_ get out of here,” Phillips interrupts. “I’m not done talking to him yet.”

The asshole turns to me, looking at me from head to toe.

“Not man enough to ditch this little girl and stick with us? How much is she paying you for you to betray your own kind?”

Phillips gave me a hard shove when I didn’t give him an answer.

“Huh. ‘Not man enough?’ Wow, sounds like someone is projecting his insecurities about his masculinity,” Percy interrupts, hand flying to the spot on my chest where the other ghoul shoved me. Phillips’ eyes flick to my partner’s hand, and he gives us a mocking smirk.

“Oh, I get it now. This kid gives you a taste of smoothskin pussy and now you’d tail her ass around like that stupid dog of hers? You’re her fucking gigolo?”

“God, you’re disgusting. How could someone as nice as Bessie stay with someone as horrible as you?”

“Keep your mouth shut, smoothskin bitch.”

Percy grabs him by the collar, knocks him off-balance with her footwork, and slams him against the wall, like she did with Wally Mack.

“No! You listen, you piece of shit! I helped you get into this fucking tower in hopes of a non-violent solution to everyone’s problems. I guess that was a fucking mistake, huh? I’m not going to shed tears for Gustavo and the other bigots who wanted you dead. But Dashwood? Does it make you feel like a bigger man, killing a senile retiree? You killed the only person in the tower who viewed you as people, too.”

“That asshole was gloating about having a ghoul manservant. I’d fucking do it again. Of course you’d defend him. You have one too, you two-faced bitch.”

Percy falters, but then slams Phillips against the wall again, his head hitting it with a dull thud.

“Charon is not my manservant. He is my friend. You don’t know a single fucking thing about us. Forget it. You can rot in this tower for all I care.” She lets him go. Then, she turns to me.

“Charon, let’s get-”

As Percy turns around, Phillips lunges for her neck, but I move her out of the way and grab the other ghoul’s arm, twisting it and shoving him to the ground.

“Traitor,” Phillips spits at me. “Goddamn smoothskin titsucker! You’ll pay for that!”

“Percy is my contract holder,” I start, towering over him. “And my friend. I don’t care what she is. I am loyal to her.”

“Is that it? That’s all you ever want to be? You’re fucking hopeless, kid. She’ll use you and throw you away once she’s done with you.”

The mere suggestion of Percy abandoning me coming from his mouth made me want to shut him up.

“Big guy, don’t listen to him. C’mon, let’s just go.”

“Once she finds a human who can protect and fuck her better, you best bet she’ll put you down like the dog you are.”

He should shut up.

Shut up. Shut the hell up!

I’ll fucking shut him up!

“Charon, enough! Stop! I order you to stop!”

Small hands were pulling me away, and Percy’s orders went in my ears as sharp barks.

Conditioning kicking in, I freeze. I look down, and my hands are bloody.

I smeared Roy Phillips to the ground.

Fuck.

Around us the other ghouls, his followers, were too shocked to even fire their weapons. Lynn runs over, looks at me, then her boyfriend’s brains on the ground, and lets out a frightened wail.

Percy grabs my arm and pulls me towards the entrance. “Charon, we need to get out of here!”

Behind us, they were firing their guns like crazy. One of the bullets grazed my thigh, but I kept going, the pain numbed by holding Percy’s hand.

We rode our way out of there.

It’s getting dark and unsafe to drive.

Making camp on the side of the road, Percy treats the bullet graze on my thigh in silence. Then, she stares into the fire, eyes glazed over.

“Charon, what have I done?”

I scoot closer to her, and she begins to cry.

“You couldn’t have predicted that Phillips would turn against his word.”

“No. I trusted him and now people died because of me.”

Doing my best to soothe her, I stroke her hair. “Can I make a suggestion?”

She nods.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for things you have no control over, angel.”

Percy sniffles, and looks up to me.

“You know, I hate it when people call me that. I’m just a kid who’s also imperfect and makes mistakes… not some Wasteland Avenger, and definitely not an Angel.”

“I can stop, if that’s what you wish of me, Percy.”

“If it’s you? It’s fine. Consider it my thanks for allowing me to call you ‘big guy’.”

Pulling her closer, I chuckled.

Percy kisses my cheek, yawns, and settles in my arms.

I smile.


	25. XXIII

January 6, 2278.

_“People of the Capital Wasteland! It’s me, Threeeeee Dog, your master of ceremonies. Everyone ready for the wasteland's latest news? Me neither, but it’s that time again._

_We haven’t heard from Miss 101 for quite a while now. Three Dog was even starting to fear the worst after eyewitnesses reported sightings of Talon Company mercs lingering near Rivet City, the last location she was seen alive with her ghoul friend, Charon. GNR sources confirmed the body of five mercs in the metro tunnels that connect from Anacostia Crossing to the Museum station. Sounds like they messed with our dynamic duo and fucked up real bad. If the kid and her bodyguard survived the ambush, Three Dog is still confirming, so stay tuned. Here’s to hoping the Wasteland Avenger and her faithful Ghoul Reaper are still alive and kicking. The Capital Wasteland needs people like them._

_And now, for some music. Here’s Billie Holiday with Crazy He Calls Me.”_

“Wasteland Avenger my ass,” Percy mutters.

Beside me, my partner tosses and turns, unable to sleep. I roll on my side, and see her back turned to me, arms defensively around herself. We’re huddling together for warmth in a single bedroll, under a musty tent. The campfire outside continues to burn, providing us with additional heat.

“Charon, are you awake?”

I grunted in response, my chin settling on top of her head.

“You got a little scary earlier today, big guy,” Percy tells me, and I wince. “I didn’t want to issue an order, but that’s the only way I got you to stop. What happened?”

With one arm, I prop myself up, and with the other, I pull her into an embrace. She turns and presses her forehead against the crook of my neck.

“I blacked out.”

“Was it an episode? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It wasn’t an episode.”

“Did Phillips really piss you off that bad?”

I look into Percy’s eyes. They were searching mine. I nod, and I press my mouth against her forehead.

“Huh. That’s the first time you ever reacted to someone saying shit about you.”

“I was pissed about the things he said about _you_ ,” I corrected her.

We lay in silence for minutes. Just when I thought she had finally fallen asleep, Percy extends her arm and wraps it around my waist.

“I’ve been thinking about what he said. About Dashwood… and me.”

I let her continue, running my gloved hand through her hair.

“He’s got a point. Like Dashwood and Argyle, we’re friends, yes, but our relationship really _is_ unequal.”

I get the feeling that she’s going to bring up the contract again.

“When you’re ready, let’s get rid of the contract together. Promise me?”

“That may take a long time, Percy.”

Looking in my eyes with wet ones, Percy gives me a pleading look.

“I don’t care how long it will take you. I could be old and gray and I’d still wait for that day. Please?”

Please. Damn that word.

“I promise.”

“There’s something else that’s bothering me,” Percy continues.

“What if I keep making the wrong decisions, Charon? What if I screw Paradise up? What if I screw Project Purity up?”

“There’s no room for doubt now,” I tell her.

“I know.”

Letting her go, I sit up and take my shotgun. “I’ll keep watch,” I tell her.

“You should rest too,” she tells me, peering up from the sleeping bag.

“I am trained to go with less sleep. I insist that you rest, angel.”

Percy chuckles, voice soft.

“Fine. Good night.”

I left our tent and stood guard outside.

It was around four in the morning when Percy started screaming, and I rushed into the tent to see what’s wrong. I had to put my arms around her and press her against my chest again to calm her down. Her pulse was racing, she’s sweating despite the cold, and her skin is pale and clammy. I move her closer to the fire, where she clings to me, trembling.

“Percy, are you alright?”

My partner nods. She takes a bottle of water from our pack, and drinks desperately, a stream of water escaping her lips.

“Just a bad dream…”

As my night terrors became less frequent, Percy is starting to have them more often.

I wish I could do something to help her.

Taking off her glasses, she presses her hands against her face. “God, what’s happening to me?”

“You’ve been through a lot of distress for the past days.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. I am,” she replies. Percy stretches, then gets up.

After having a breakfast of Cram and tucking our gear safely into our pack, we got on the motorcycle and I started driving again. The sun is rising in the east, where we’re heading.

“Are you sure this will work?” I ask her through the roar of the engine.

“Knowing the Brotherhood, they won’t spare any resources to help me. But I still need to try.”

I kept quiet and drove on. When we arrived at the Citadel, one of the guards eyed us and our vehicle.

“A working motorcycle? Never thought I’d see the day,” he comments, opening the gates for us.

He was smart enough not to say anything about my presence and just let us through. The last time he did, things got ugly.

I follow Percy into one of the buildings, where the scribe that gave us the location of Vault 87 usually stays.

“Scribe Rothschild,” Percy calls his attention.

“Ah, Persephone. I’ve heard about the ambush. I’m glad you survived. Have you retrieved the GECK?” the scribe asks. His eyes were glued to the terminal he’s using.

“We ran into some problems, but we found a way to get in through Lamplight. The thing is, the residents are asking me for a favor in exchange for entry. We need to save their friends from Paradise Falls. I’m planning to launch a full-on attack, and I need all the resources you can spare.”

At the last sentence, Rothschild looks up and gives Percy a scrutinizing look. “A full-on attack? You know that the Brotherhood is spread thin as it is, with the mutants crawling about in DC.”

Shoulders tensing, Percy folds her arms. “I thought this chapter of the Brotherhood is dedicated to protecting people. How can you even let Paradise Falls continue to exist? They should’ve been wiped off the map years ago.”

“I told you, Persephone. We cannot spare resources for that. You will have to find another way to get in Lamplight, force your way in if needed.”

“But they’re _children_ , Scribe.”

Rothschild gives my partner a long, hard look, and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.”

Groaning, Percy massages her temples, brows furrowed and scowling. “I should’ve known that this would be a waste of time.”

Then, one of the tin cans approached us. This one is old, battle-hardened. Her hair was graying and there were lines at the corner of her eyes.

“Excuse me. I can’t help but overhear your conversation with the scribe. You are James’ daughter, am I correct?” she asks Percy, and my partner looks at her with wary eyes.

“Yes. You know me?”

“Indeed! I am Star Paladin Cross. On behalf of the Brotherhood, I welcome you to the Citadel. I am proud to say that I was friends with your father. I helped guard the purifier from the super mutant horde, and when James left, I escorted you and him to Megaton. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Percy looks at me with wide eyes, and back to the elderly paladin.

“Thank you. In five days, we will be launching an attack on Paradise Falls to rescue the slaves and end their operations, once and for all. I would appreciate it if you can join us in the battle.”

“Your father would be proud. I’d be honored to join you on your mission,” Cross replies, extending her hand to my partner, and she shakes it. Cross looks at me, and I expected her to scowl in disgust, but she merely nods, acknowledging my presence.

Maybe this old lady isn’t so bad.

“Meet us at night in Gob’s Saloon in Megaton, on the tenth. We’ll discuss tactics there. See you, Paladin.”

As we turn to leave, Percy stops in her tracks.

“Wait. Paladin Cross, are you any good with big weapons?”

Cross smiles and stands proud. “Brothers are trained well and tempered in the fires of battle.”

Percy smiles, and I can tell she’s formulating several ideas in her mind.

“Good! I look forward to discussing tactics with you.”

“It’s always a subject worthy of discussion. Farewell, friend.”

After changing the fission battery of the motorcycle, I start the engine again, and Percy gets on.

“Where to next, Percy?”

“Rivet City. I need to check if Flak and Shrapnel carry missiles.”

January 8, 2278.

_“-get this! Little Miss 101 and her trusty bodyguard are still alive, and have been spotted cruising around the wastes on a motorbike. Where the hell did they even find a working one? Regardless, they’ve been very active for the past few days. What are they even up to? Off to start a motorcycle gang? Just joyriding around? Whatever it is, the Capital Wasteland’s buzzing with excitement due to the return of the Wasteland Avenger and the Ghoul Reaper, now on wheels! Hahaha, bad guys better watch out!_

_Until next time! This is Three Dog, and you’re listening to Galaxy News Radio, bringing you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts.”_

“So what _are_ you up to, Nosebleed? And why are you leaving Dogmeat with me again?”

Across us, DeLoria smokes a cigarette, on break from barber duty. Bottles of Nuka and whiskey littered the table. Percy wipes her mouth with a handkerchief.

“Because if I leave him at Moira’s, she might attach him with a fifth paw or something. It’s a secret, Butch. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“You’d better not be starting a rival gang, Perce. Once a Tunnel Snake, always a Tunnel Snake.”

“I have no plans of competing with you, DeLoria. How’s the gang anyway?”

Butch falters, sagging. “Well, uh, there’s no new members yet, but only because I’m so busy with being a barber! Gotta get that dough. Ain’t like you who can scour the wasteland for caps.”

I snorted. Percy laughs outright.

“Yeah, you’ll probably end up as mole rat chow if you tried that.”

DeLoria crushes his cigarette in a nearby ash tray and flicks the butt towards Percy, which she dodges.

“C’mon, for old time’s sake. What are you two up to now? It’s getting boring around here. The Butchman needs some action.”

“Butch. You cried when we came across a radroach on the way here. I’d rather not get you involved in something so dangerous.”

The greaser frowns. “But that was a radroach! You know I hate ‘em scurrying little freaks with their scratchy legs, eugh. I can shoot and I can stab anything else!”

“You can’t even shoot without almost shooting Percy,” I tell him, and his frown deepens.

“Oh yeah? Like the two of you can do better…”

Percy snickers. “Charon is a trained soldier, while I spent my free time in the vault at target practice. Just let it go, Butch. You’re safer here.”

“If he wants to be useful, maybe we can use him as bait,” I say, and both of them turn to me. DeLoria looks annoyed as hell, while Percy gives me a blank stare.

Fuck, this is what I get for trying to joke.

“Not funny, asshole.”

“Wait. That might work,” Percy mumbles.

“Percy, what the hell!” DeLoria exclaims, looking a little hurt.

Percy moves next to DeLoria, and she cups her hand near DeLoria’s ear to whisper. Then, the greaser looks at her with wide eyes. “No way. That’s crazy Percy! How are you gonna even-”

“Keep your voice down! Do you want in, or not?”

Butch groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, fine, I’m in. But if I die, I’ll fucking haunt you, Perce. You too, Charon.”

Standing up, Percy drags Butch to the Muddy Rudder’s exit. “I won’t let you. Which is why we need to work on your aim.”

I follow the two up the stairwell, where Butch complains the entire time.

At the top of the ship, there are a few security guards patrolling about. Percy speaks to one of them, then she leads us to the far edge of the ship.

“Do you have your pistol with you?” Percy asks Butch.

“Yeah, always. What-”

“Unload it.”

“Why would I do that?”

“We wouldn’t want to waste bullets and shoot anyone now, do we? Just do as I say, DeLoria.”

Butch does as he’s told and tucks the clip in his jacket pocket. “What now?”

“Aim.”

He does as he’s told, but his stance is off. Percy sighs.

“God, you can’t even aim properly. Charon, help him.”

Ignoring the greaser’s complaints, I shove his feet with mine in an effort to correct him. Once he was in the proper position, Percy perches a bottle cap on top of the 10mm.

Ah. I get it now.

“Practice shooting without making the cap fall off,” Percy instructs him, and steps aside.

DeLoria fires, but it falls off.

“Dammit. This is stupid.”

“Just keep practicing, Butch.”

It keeps falling off, and at that point, I was getting annoyed.

“No, not like that. Don’t use your joint. Don’t wrap your entire finger around the trigger. Use just your distal phalanx to fire,” Percy instructs.

“My _what?_ ”

Ah, fuck it. DeLoria’s involved now. Might as well continue teaching him.

“Percy, should I demonstrate it for him?” I ask my partner. She nods.

DeLoria begrudgingly hands me the gun. Percy perches the cap on top of the pistol, and I shoot. It remains steady.

“Watch Butch,” Percy tells the greaser. “See how he doesn’t flick the trigger? Try exhaling as you fire too. Breathing can throw off your aim.”

“Great, now you’re teaching me how to breathe too? Where’d you even learn all this, Perce?”

I do it again.

“Well, aside from target practice in the vault, I came across this simulation thing. It’s like a video game, but if I die in it, I die in real life. I watched the soldiers do it.”

“Simulation? What?”

“Yeah, it’s hard to believe, I know. But it was supposed to be a virtual training exercise for soldiers to get ready for the Battle of Anchorage, 200 years ago.”

The cap fell off of the gun as my breath hitched. I hand it back to DeLoria.

“Now, try it again.”

This time, Butch gets it.

“I did it! Whooo! Look out Wasteland! The Butchman’s coming for you!”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Percy comments.

With a cocky smile, Butch goes back to practicing.

“Meet us at Megaton in two days, Butch.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you.”

I follow Percy down.


	26. XXIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: threats of non-con, attempted suicide by firearm.

January 10, 2278.

Hannibal Hamlin just arrived a few moments ago, after Cross did. He sees me, smiles, and shakes my hand.

“Charon. Good to see you again, friend. How is Percy treating you? Has she found a solution to your contract yet?”

“Good,” I tell him. “We’re working on it.”

“That’s good to hear.”

The back door swings open, and DeLoria arrives with the dog. Dogmeat bounds towards me, and licks my hand after I ruffled his fur.

“Yo. I’m here. Where’s Percy at?”

“She’s retrieving a few things from the house. She’ll be here soon,” I tell him. “Are you sure you weren’t followed?”

“Yeah. I had the dog with me to keep watch.”

Just a few moments later, we heard the back door opening once again. Gob exclaims something I couldn’t hear, and Percy comes into view, dragging a missile launcher with her. It’s the one we found on the first day that I started serving her.

“Sorry I’m late. Had to double check a few things. Paladin Cross, this is for you.”

DeLoria’s jaw drops at the sight of the weapon. Cross carries it with ease, and thanks my partner.

“Holy shit, Perce. Where’d you even get that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, these arrived just in time, Charon. Moira had a hard time procuring them, so let’s put them to good use,” Percy turns to me, handing me a package.

I look inside and smirk.

“As you command.”

Nodding, Percy sets the map Doc Church drew out for us on the bar top.

“Here’s the plan.”

It was near midnight when we finished our meeting.

“Let’s go home,” Percy tells me. I follow her.

After cleaning up, we went into Percy's bedroom, my bedroom now too, I suppose. I lay awake next to her that night, thinking back to the days we spent with the Abolitionists, and their influence on me.

Right after that incident with Harkness, Percy runs into an escaped slave in the city, Mei Wong. She gives Wong some caps so she can buy a weapon. Then, that’s when we learned about the Temple of the Union, and met Hamlin.

November 11, 2277.

Staying close to Percy, we walked on, accompanying Hamlin and the others to the Lincoln Memorial.

Nearly two centuries ago, my first mission occurred here. I think I was… fourteen. Or fifteen. Fuck, my memories from before the Great War are still hazy, but I know it happened. Under the orders of our contract holder then, our unit was tasked to suppress protesters gathering at the memorial.

I remember everyone’s actions.

Vanth, our sniper, did not hesitate to open fire, making rubber bullets rain on the crowd. She didn’t even aim it to the ground; she aimed at the people. Everyone followed suit, save for me who stood there, mortified. I only got moving when my electric collar went off.

Magwayen did the best she could to avoid casualties. I followed her. The others did not. At the end of the day, Mag treated the wounds on my back. Whip marks. Punishment for being too soft.

The next day, I went harder on the people. I remember the smell of tear gas. Mag became distant since then.

I’m certain that if hell exists, I would go there, regardless whether hurting all those people is my will, or not. My hands killed them. I’m a murderer.

I’d never thought I’d come back to that place and do something right for a change.

I watched as my mistress helped the Abolitionists return the statue’s head back where it belonged. Smiling, sweat pouring from her brow, Percy approaches me, and tells me to enjoy the rest of the day while she talks to Hamlin.

They talked for hours. Occasionally, Hamlin would look at me, a certain understanding in his gaze.

I brought my mind back to the present. I figured out earlier that Percy must’ve spoken to him about my contract. Heartbeat slow, Percy sleeps next to me, and I look at her unmarred face. As gently as possible, I brush a lock of stray hair from her face. This angel… she’s doing everything she can to free me from its hold, huh?

Maybe it’s time.

I think I can manage it.

If I survive tomorrow, I want to come out as a free man.

After planting a light kiss on her shoulder, I closed my eyes.

  
  


January 11, 2278.

Today’s the day.

The sun’s setting on the horizon. DeLoria walks in front of me, obviously nervous as hell. We approach Paradise Falls’ entrance, where a guard asks us to halt and state our business.

“Yo, is this a place where I can sell people? My friend gave me this piece of shit here and I don’t want anything to do with him.”

The guard looks at us with scrutiny. DeLoria looks like an absolute dick, wearing shades and a set of ill-fitting armor. Only an idiot would buy his disguise, but I guess the guard’s one after all.

Good for us.

Behind him, Percy emerges, and snaps his neck. He lands to the ground with a thud. The others approach; Hamlin and Simone from the Abolitionists, and Cross from the Brotherhood. The paladin hefts the rocket launcher, and as Simone kicks the gates open, all hell breaks loose.

Crouching, Percy disappears again, and the only thing giving her away’s the silver-white outline of her stealth field. The Abolitionists provide Cross some cover fire as she fires the missiles at the slavers.

Now, my turn.

DeLoria follows me close by, and we approach the slave pen.

“Remember the plan,” I tell him. “Watch my back as I get these gates open.”

“R-right,” DeLoria stammers, taking a steadying breath. “Shit, shit. What have I gotten myself into, man?”

“Hey. Do it for the kids.”

The younger man nods at me, bravado coming back. “Yeah! For the kids!”

As soon as I unlocked the gate, DeLoria tossed a bag at the adult slaves. “Here, protect yourselves. Run for it!” he yells.

I moved on to the next gate, where the children stayed. They huddled together, looking at me with fear. But when the gates swung open, they reluctantly approached. Next to me, Percy emerges from thin air. The kids looked at her with awe.

“Hey. Your friends from Lamplight asked us to help you. Follow the guy with the nice hair, kids. We’ll meet you outside.”

The children followed DeLoria, while the other slaves joined the fray, exacting retribution on their captors.

“Charon, you know what to do,” Percy tells me, squeezing my arm, and disappears once again.

I take out the contents of the package Percy gave me the night before.

C4 explosives.

Time to blow this place up.

I started at the clinic. An old slaver lies dead on the floor. The vault next to the cash register is already looted. Must be Percy’s doing. She’s still thorough. I placed one explosive under the desk.

After that, I went to the slaver barracks. The place is deserted, bottles lying about.

Then I heard a click of a gun behind my head.

“Hold it right there,” a familiar voice tells me. “Wait a minute, it’s you! Hah, the zombie- ugh!”

A shot resounded through the building, and the slaver’s body thumps against the floor. I look behind me, and Percy stands there, 10mm in her hand. Her stealth armor helmet pops open and she smiles at me.

“C’mon big guy, let’s get a move on.”

She watched my back as I installed another explosive, and we ran back out to face Paradise Falls’ leader.

Eulogy Jones.

I kick the door to his pad open, and he sits atop the bed, looking far too relaxed for someone whose base is being torn to shreds.

It’s almost as if he was expecting us.

Two female slaves jump at Percy and before I can save her, Eulogy Jones shoots my calf, and I kneel, groaning in pain. I can barely keep my eyes open as one of them searched Percy for my contract, and handed it to Eulogy.

No, no! Not this shit again!

“Good girl, Clover,” the slaver croons.

Then, he turns to us.

“Ah, I knew the two of you would show up here. Welcome.”

A look of horror crossed Percy’s face as she heard shouts outside. Bloodied slavers barged through the door, and one of them was grabbing DeLoria by the collar.

“Butch! Where are the others?!”

“They got away, don’t worry about- ow! That hurts!” One of them kicked the greaser.

“Not for long,” he tells the greaser. Then, he turns to my partner.

“Word travels fast in the wasteland, you know. It didn’t take long for us to figure out what you’re up to, my dear. The two of you haven’t really been subtle about it. Paradise Falls has contacts _everywhere_. It didn’t take much for one of them to strong-arm Church into telling us what you’re up to.”

“Bastard!” Percy spits. “What have you done with him?!”

The two women restraining her keep her down as she tries to wriggle free.

“Let’s just say that Jotun sent him into an early retirement.”

That dangerous look, the one that frightens me, is back on Percy’s face. Her mouth is pressed into a tight line, trembling in her fury.

“And you,” he turns to me. “Who would’ve thought that you’d be back here, fifteen years later, Charon? Or should I say, _Artyom Volkov_.”

In the corner of my eye, Percy is looking at me with uncertainty. “Artyom Volkov?”

“That’s right, Miss Zhou. That’s your bodyguard’s name, before he was brainwashed into submission. There are a lot of things that you don’t know about him. Did you know that aside from helping us acquire new merchandise in the past, he was a war criminal, before the bombs dropped 200 years ago?”

“Liar. Charon can’t even remember most of his life before that. How could you know such a thing?”

“You never bothered to learn his history? My dear, I simply asked him all those years ago. _Artyom_ here probably locked those memories away when I sold him to Ahzrukhal. Fifteen years is a very long time and you’re bound to misplace some memories, but I suppose someone as young as you wouldn’t know.”

Percy is breathing hard, looking at me with those wet and wide eyes, and I couldn’t look at her. The entire ordeal felt like peeling gauze off a wound that didn’t quite heal, or my skin being charred by hellfire from an atom bomb.

“Charon, tell me he’s lying.”

I can’t answer her. She’s no longer holding my contract.

“Answer her, Charon,” Eulogy orders me, and I comply, bile rising to my throat.

“He’s not.”

My new master steps closer, and grabs my partner’s jaw.

“I could put you in the pen as breeding stock, like this boy here,” Eulogy said, motioning to Butch.

“But you know, you remind me of my Clover here,” he continues. “Crazy girl, and I’m an expert on crazy girls. I just know you’d be crazy in the sack too. You just need to be housebroken.”

“Fuck you,” Percy spits.

“Soon, babe, soon. Now, Charon, take Miss 101 and her friend here to their new quarters.”

I feel it, the ghost of an electric shock shooting upward to my brain again.

But I can withstand it now.

“No.”

Percy and Butch look up to me, and before the burn can incapacitate me again, I whip out my shotgun and shot Jones in the head, twice. One to kill him, another out of spite.

My shotgun clatters to the floor, and the shocked slave girls couldn’t do anything as Percy escapes their grasp and takes back my contract from Eulogy’s dead hands. 

“You disobeyed another order,” Percy gasps, looking at me with a soft look.

A piercing shriek filled the room as the girls lunged at me, but Percy shot one of them in the head. The other one who got too close, she whips with her pistol.

“Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa, Percy wait! These girls are slaves too! We can’t just shoot ‘em,” DeLoria exclaims, rushing over to the fallen girl. DeLoria attempts to help her up, but she scratches his chest, kicking and screaming, and she turns to me, manic.

“You son of a bitch! You killed daddy! You killed Mr. Eulogy, you killed him, you killed him! I hate you, you fucking shuffler!” she shrieks, like a petulant child. A deranged, petulant child.

Percy knocks her out cold. “You’re welcome to carry her, Butch, if you care so much.”

“Percy…”

Limping, I place the last C4 explosive while Percy loots the place clean. Then, she comes and wraps her arm around my waist, supporting me, holding me like she did the first time I ever got injured in her employ.

We hear heavy footsteps, and Cross comes into view, offering us a helping hand. Behind us, DeLoria carries the unconscious slave girl in his arms. I’d never thought I’d see the day when he’ll care for anyone other than himself.

I’d never thought I’d see the day that I would be free from my contract either, but here we are.

“Percy, I think I’m ready.”

My partner looks up to me, her eyes glistening in the moonlight.

“You guys go on ahead,” she tells Cross and the others. “We just have some unfinished business to attend to.”

We sit outside Eulogy’s pad, her back against my chest, and Percy fishes my contract out of her PipBoy glove. Her glasses are fogging up as it starts snowing again. I dug in my pockets, and after palming through crushed cigarette boxes, I found a lighter.

“Charon, are you sure about this?”

I nod, trembling as I hand her the lighter.

“Do it.”

I expected my skin to be set ablaze as the fire ate the edges of my contract, or for agonizing pain to shoot up my spine and kill me in an instant, but instead, I stared as my paper soul went up in flames without eliciting a single reaction.

As the paper turned to ashes, I sat with my partner in silence.

“It’s done. Charon, your contract is gone- Charon, no!”

I never noticed my hand reaching for Percy’s pistol involuntarily, aiming it to my temple, and firing.

When I opened my eyes, Percy was on top of me, breathing hard, her small hand restraining my arm in a surprising show of strength. She wrenches the pistol from me and throws it a few feet away from us, then she looks me in the eyes, her glasses slipping off of her face and landing on my chest.

I can feel her breath on my lips.

Burying her face in my chest, a sob wracked her body. I held her as tight as I could.

“C’mon, let’s send this place to hell.”

Reunited with our companions, I hand Percy the detonator.

Paradise Falls is no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triple update! Charon's contract is no more! But will it make a difference? 👀


	27. XXV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: recollection of past non-con/rape. Left line breaks so people can skip it in case they need to.
> 
> Have some dialogue-heavy heart-to-heart between Charon and Percy. This chapter was heavily inspired by the songs [In Your Likeness](https://open.spotify.com/track/3LSkTAKsYieAAPqRc2xUMI?si=tCpyFkShST6FU9Q82EEOkw) by Woodkid and [Bernadette (Acoustic Version)](https://open.spotify.com/track/3BHeoMjspFKmNsbQGJ7Z91?si=gP42DiePQ9G2TU_eU9rv7Q) by IAMX.

January 11, 2278.

I’m certain the entire Wasteland heard the explosion.

My partner stood still, completely silent. 

All of us watched as Paradise Falls went up in flames, the fire reflecting in Percy’s glasses.

The Abolitionists and the ex-slaves cheered and yelled, some raising their fists, the others embracing each other and sobbing. Cross carried the children on her shoulders, and the little ones laughed as Paradise burned. DeLoria sat near the Abolitionists’ caravan, speaking to a few of them while nursing a bruised rib, a confident grin on his face.

Everyone is celebrating, except for the two of us.

Percy drops to her knees and cries. Wordlessly, I took my place at her side, but I didn’t dare say anything.

She grabs and squeezes my hand, and I finally allowed myself to breathe.

“You’re free,” she whispers.

Just as quickly, she lets it go.

Now, it was time to lick our wounds.

Percy patched the injured up, including me. Her eyes never met mine, and she never said a word throughout the entire ordeal. My partner knelt in front of me, tending to the gunshot wound I had on my calf, but she doesn't look at me.

As we said our goodbyes, we walked to where we parked the motorbike, almost two kilometers from Paradise Falls’ front gate. Percy hops on, but she doesn’t press herself against my back, opting to hold my sides.

“Let’s go home,” she finally mumbles.

I couldn’t help but overthink the entire journey home.

Was getting rid of the contract a mistake? Is Percy done with me?

Is she going to kick me out of her home? Where will I go?

What the fuck am I going to do without her?

_Why isn’t she talking to me?_

  
  


January 12, 2278.

I was anxious for hours.

When we arrived in Megaton, Percy didn’t even stop by Gob’s Saloon to fetch Dogmeat. She just kept marching on. Without breathing a word, I followed her home.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind us, not minding the cold, Percy strips to her underclothes as she drags her feet to the kitchenette, struggling with the buckles of her armor. The faucet was running, and I heard her shiver as she tended to herself.

Then, I hear the refrigerator door opening and closing shut. She emerges from the kitchenette with a half-empty bottle of scotch in her hand, and she sits on the sofa, taking a long swig from the bottle. Fresh bandages were on her scrapes from the fight. Percy takes off her glasses and I see it clearer now, the darkening circles under her eyes from all the things she had to deal with.

Now, she has to deal with me too.

“Percy,” I mumble, building the courage to speak to her.

“Talk to me. Please?” It was my turn to use that word.

The two centuries of being bound to my contract felt longer than the silence between my question and her response.

“Come sit,” she tells me.

I do as she says.

We sat on the opposite sides of the sofa, just a few inches between each other, but it feels like she’s worlds away.

I decided that I did not like this feeling.

“Should I still call you Charon, or should I start calling you _Artyom?_ ”

I blinked at her a few times.

Tonight, I am reminded that I wasn’t always ‘Charon’. I remember my old name, the one that my mother gave me, but that child was a different person from who I became, and who I am now. That boy is long gone. But now… Now I’m not even a man.

Tonight I am reminded that I am a monster, inside and out.

“Charon.”

She went silent after that, expression blank.

“Artyom Volkov is long dead. He died when the Enclave’s predecessors took him,” I added.

Percy puts the bottle down, and her eyes flick towards me. Wet. Wary. Afraid.

It hurts to see it.

“Charon, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say. I know you were involved in the Sino-American war but…” Percy starts, pressing her knees against her chest.

“Hearing it come from that slaver’s mouth… It’s still pretty jarring. It scared me.”

I gulped.

No, not fear.

I’d rather she hate me than fear me.

My eyes trailed to her shivering form and out of instinct, I stood up, my feet taking me upstairs. I come back with a blanket from her room, and I drape it around her shoulders. I intended to leave her alone after that. But before I can take my hand away, she touches it, and she pulls me back on the couch. Wrapping the blanket around herself, she settles on my lap, back pressed against my chest. Before I can stop myself, I draw her closer to me.

I’m certain she can feel my heart hammering hard on her back.

“None of the conditioning you went through is your fault. I really do believe that.”

“But?” I ask her. I felt like there was going to be a ‘but”.

“But nothing. Charon, I’m sorry for not talking to you. I’m still absorbing what the hell just happened. I was emotional, I was having irrational thoughts and… and I didn’t want to say anything that will hurt you.”

“I understand.”

The tightness in my chest dissipates little by little, and I press my face against the back of Percy’s head. I can smell smoke, gunpowder, Abraxo, and a scent that was hers alone.

“Remember what I said months ago, about how I’ll refrain from discussing your past unless you want to talk about it?” Percy asks me, looking up and leaning against my right shoulder.

I nod. I’m afraid where this conversation is leading to.

“Let’s just rip the entire band-aid off. Can I ask you some things now?”

I knew it.

“I’m afraid that what you think of me will change once you hear all of my sins,” is my response, and I look away from her. I wasn’t ready to confront that part of myself yet.

I wasn’t ready to hear what she said after that, either.

“Hey. I want to let you know, no matter what I’ll learn about your history, or what people say about you, you’re still the Charon I know. You’re still the Charon who kept my impulsive ass in check, the Charon who carries me gently whenever I’m injured or shitfaced. You’re still the Charon who stuck by me as we wiped off that slaver shithole off the map, the same Charon who broke free from centuries of being tied to that fucking piece of paper. You’ll always be _my_ Charon.”

My eyes are starting to get wet.

Goddammit, Percy.

Without saying anything, I buried my face into her hair, and I did the best I could to hold back my tears. We stayed like that for what seemed like hours.

“Besides,” she finally breaks the silence. “I don’t think I have the heart to hear what they forced you to do either. I want to ask about who you were as Artyom Volkov.”

I scratch my head, or what skin left on it anyway. “Angel, as much as I would like to, I was sixteen when they changed my name and deemed me ready. I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. I’ve lived for more than two centuries, and sixteen years seems insignificant now.”

“Well, I’m just about to turn twenty next month, so excuse my differing perception on the flow of time,” Percy chuckles, eyeing her photograph with her father on the wall.

She turns around to face me. I lie back on the sofa, and she lies prone on top of me, chin resting on my chest. “Let’s start small. You mentioned your dad before. Tell me about him.”

I let myself smile a little. Propping my head against one arm, I’m ready to tell her everything I can remember.

“His name’s Ilya. I can’t quite remember his face, but he was big. Like a yao guai.”

Percy giggles.

“Yeah, definitely like you. Tell me more about him. What was he like?”

“He made me feel safe. During the winter he’ll take his ushanka out of the attic and tell me about the place he came from. I remember wanting to wear his hat. He said that one day I’d grow into it, but he was killed before that could happen,” I tell Percy, and she gives me a sympathetic look.  
  


Not pity again. I need to change the subject. “We spent Saturdays fishing. I barely saw him during the weekdays.”

“Huh. What did he do?”

“I can’t remember, but on Sundays, my father used to bring people from work in the house, and they’d sit and talk for hours. I couldn’t comprehend what they were discussing together.”

“What _did_ they talk about?” Percy asks.

“I’m not sure. Once, I asked him what the meetings are about, and he told me that they’re talking about how they can be paid better at work, so he can bring home more food for us.”

Percy crawls a little closer. “Sounds like he was in a labor union.”

“A what?”

“A labor union. I don’t know when unions first showed up, but history class from the vault taught me a little about the ones from the era before the Great War. Resources became scarce, so did wages. People worked long hours for very little pay. Workers banded together to demand better benefits from their employers. Mr. Brotch told us that what the laborers did was fair, and I think I agree,” Percy explains, a stray lock of hair on her forehead.

I brushed it off gingerly, my fingers brushing against her skin. She leans into my touch. 

“In hindsight, it was probably their meetings that led to them being accused as Reds,” she adds.

I paused, pondering on the information Percy shared with me.

“You know, come to think of it, he always came home late and tired. My mother was always worried about him.”

At the mention of the word mother, Percy’s eyes flick to mine. There was a certain kind of sadness in them. I felt a twinge in my chest.

“What was your mother like, Charon? What was it like to have a mom?”

“Her name’s Annika. She was gentle to me. Protective too. Scolded the kids who made fun of my difficulties in reading. Aside from singing me lullabies, she used to make me the thinnest pancakes. She called them blins. Having a mother who looked after me was nice. I felt cared for.”

“That… that sounds amazing.”

My breath hitches at my throat.

“I loved her very much. I loved both of them very much.”

Percy strokes my arm, hand soft against my rough skin and hardened muscles. “Was there anyone else in your family? Like a sibling?”

“I didn’t have brothers or sisters, but I did have an aunt. Katya. She was my father’s younger sister.”

“What do you remember about her?”

“The last time I saw her was to visit her during her birthday. Her hair was red too. I didn’t know what happened to her after I was taken away.”

“And what was Aunt Katya like?”

“Loud. Chatty. She talked my ear off for hours, though there were some things she said that I didn’t understand a child, and can’t remember now. I loved her too.”

“I see,” my partner replies, yawning and stretching.

Then, Percy asks me a question that made me hold my breath.

“Was there anyone else you loved aside from family, Charon?”

 _You_.

Wait. Stop. Damn, and I almost said it out loud.

I care for Percy. I really do. But _is_ it love?

Fuck, I’m still figuring it out.

“The indoctrination didn’t leave much room for that. We were actively discouraged from forming any attachments to anyone except our employers,” I tell her instead.

I felt Percy sag against me. She rests her cheek against my chest.

“I’m sorry.”

“There _was_ someone I cared for despite the conditioning, though,” I tell her.

“Who?”

“Her name was Magwayen. I called her Mag, I couldn’t remember her name before she was inducted. When I was brought to the facility as a child, she cared for me.”

Percy holds my gaze, silently asking me to continue.

“I think she was about your age when I met her. I was a lot shorter than her back then. By the time I was inducted, she was our medic. I was their demolition guy.”

Thinking about Mag, my brain started to itch again.

“Now that I’ve thought about it, you two are similar.”

Head perking up, Percy gives me a curious look. “Oh? Aside from our age and our background in medicine, what else did we share?”

“She was Asian too, I think. Had dark hair like yours, but it was longer. You both had strong principles. She managed to fake being subservient to survive. I was supposed to report her for that, but she was kind. It became our secret.”

Percy gives me a soft smile. “I have a feeling Mag and I would’ve gotten along.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah. And you were both short as hell.”

With a laugh, Percy gives my chest a playful shove. “Making fun of me now? Oh Charon, how could you?” she asks, her voice dripping with mock hurt.

“Now that the contract’s gone, I can tease you without the fear of you selling it.”

“As if my conscience is capable of letting me do that,” she replies, now with genuine hurt. Shit.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that.”

Percy blinks at me.

“I do not want to admit it, but you selling my contract became one of my worst fears. I didn’t expect you to free me from it.”

To my surprise, this angel leans forward and kisses me at my temple, where I had pointed a gun at a few hours ago.

“I didn’t free you from it. I just helped you. You did that yourself, big guy. I’m proud of you.”

I fell asleep smiling.

??? ??, ????.

I feel an unwelcome weight above me.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t looking into eyes with the color of Pre-War chocolate anymore. They’re green, reminding me of the Wasteland’s radioactive sky.

Recoiling in horror, I blurted her name.

“Vanth.”

* * *

She wraps her hands around my neck, and I was in hell all over again.

“Charon.”

“Vanth, _no._ Stop! Get the fuck off me,” I growl at her. “Percy, where are you?”

“She can’t save you now.”

In the corner of my eye, I see Percy, her skull and brains strewn on the metal floor.

No...

Powerless, I just let it fucking happen.

* * *

All of a sudden, I can hear Percy's voice.

“Charon, wake up,” Percy whispers with urgency, gently shaking me awake.

I saw her face, and crushed her against my chest.

“Nightmare?”

I nod.

“Hey, who’s Vanth?”


	28. XXVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: recollection of past rape/non-con, uncomfortable themes

January 12, 2278.

Good question.

Of all the operatives I was trained with, Vanth was the one who took to the program best. Our proctors will ask her to jump, and she’ll jump. If a contract holder asks her to beat a civilian up, she’ll do it without blinking. If a corrupt old pervert asks her to ride her fellow operative so he can get off, she’ll do it without remorse.

It didn’t happen just once, either.

Vanth’s just one of the many people I would’ve loved to put shotgun shells in, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget her cruelty.

Even before the first incident happened, Vanth had always been ruthless. Mag would scold me for calling her a bitch. She said that Vanth is just a product of her upbringing, made worse by the program. And yet, Mag isn’t capable of that kind of shit. Fuck, that’s the damn reason why she was designated as the medic. She’d rather keep us alive than shoot at anyone.

Vanth was different. 

If there’s anything worse than Vanth’s complacency, it was her enthusiasm in inflicting all that hurt on other people. Her cruelty comes from the hatred those responsible for the indoctrination instilled in us: hatred for the insubordinate, hatred for the Reds, hatred for anyone who doesn’t bow to the will of the United States of America and its thirteen commonwealths, and hatred for anyone different. She took all that crap and fucking internalized it.

She hated the protestors for making a mockery of the government. She hated her fellow operatives for failing where she succeeded. She hated Mag. She hated me.

That snake-eyed blonde _bitch_ enjoyed hurting us.

Sometimes, I imagine what life would have been like if I had been as complacent and obedient as Vanth was, if Magwayen didn’t plant ideas that contradict our conditioning in my head, and if Percy didn’t come 200 years later to help me break free from the contract.

I imagine what kind of man, if I can call myself that, I would be if I didn’t have remorse, or if I didn’t have my moral code that I kept to myself, until this woman crawled out of her hole in the ground and appealed to my better nature.

I decided that I do not like that version of me.

All this time, Percy was waiting for my answer patiently, her hands folded under her chin, while she lies on top of me. I can feel her warmth and softness of her body, then I remember Ahzrukhal’s threat to her. I remember the Talon Merc’s orders.

Something dark stirs my decrepit brain.

If they had given me the order, and I had been that man who has no remorse, I would have been like Vanth.

I would have been like Stevie.

_A rapist._

Percy’s rapist.

Fucking hell. That’s just sick.

Gently, I push my partner off me and sit up. I turn away from her, ashamed of the thoughts I’ve had. Her words in the hotel room in Rivet City echoes back. The fact that these thoughts disturb me and I feel disgusted at the thought of forcing myself on anyone should reassure me.

I should feel reassured that I am not like Vanth.

But I still feel like shit.

Percy wouldn’t push me to answer if I didn’t want to, I know, but given the circumstances, with Eulogy Jones exposing my past, Percy learning about my fellow operatives, and now me blurting my rapist’s name in my sleep because of a nightmare… I’m willing to pick at the scabs and the leftover bandages off of the goddamn wound.

Maybe this time, it’ll have a chance to heal properly.

“Vanth to me is what Stevie was to you.”

My throat felt dry as I confessed that. Percy seemed stunned. She didn’t say a word or move an inch, probably waiting for me to continue talking, or just taken aback by my admission.

“May 5, 2077. It was my eighteenth birthday… and our contract holder then thought that a nice fuck from my teammate would be a great birthday gift. I couldn’t get any enjoyment out of it even if my body did. I didn’t want it. But I couldn’t say no.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy whispers.

“It was centuries ago. She’s just one of many.”

“That doesn’t make it any right.”

“I know. I was afraid I’d turn out like her.”

I can hear Percy gasp in realization. “So _that_ explains your reaction in the hotel… and how you managed to resist the Talon Merc’s orders. I’m sorry Charon. Had I known where you were coming from when we had that talk, I shouldn’t have made it all about myself.”

“Don’t apologize. I wasn’t ready to talk about it then, anyway. If you didn’t talk to me about what happened to you that night, I wouldn’t be anywhere near confronting my own problems now.”

“Okay. You were also saying my name, while you were dreaming. Big guy, what did you dream of?”

I inhaled deeply.

“I dreamed that she killed you, just as she killed Mag on the day the bombs fell, and I was underneath her again. You… you get the picture.”

Silence.

Gingerly, her fingers pressed against my sides, and she leans over, the contact feeling like a request for permission and a comforting touch at the same time. I held her hands and wrapped her arms around my chest, or at least, what their length permits. Her soft cheek against the side of my neck, the muscles and veins underneath exposed, she whispered where my ear would’ve been.

“Do you want to continue talking, or should I just hold you?”

Heartbeat hammering, my hand wanders to hers, dwarfing it, and I give it a squeeze.

“Hold me.”

“Let’s get to bed so I can do that properly, then.”

She leads me by the hand up to our bedroom, where I lie on our bed, still facing the door out of habit. Percy presses the back of my head against her chest, and she rubs little circles on my shoulder. This won’t go away overnight, but at that moment, I felt safe.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” I tell her.

“Pfft. If you were someone else, I’d have pushed you off the bed for calling me that.”

Percy drapes her arm over me, and I fall asleep listening to her heartbeat.

I didn’t have any more nightmares.

When I woke up hours later, she wasn’t beside me anymore.

Percy’s voice was muffled as she spoke to someone downstairs. I threw on proper clothes, and went down the steps.

“Percy, next time, I’d appreciate a heads up when y’all are plotting something in this town.”

“Are we in trouble, sheriff?” Percy asks.

“Let’s discuss that when you get to the saloon. See you there.”

Lucas Simms was outside our doorstep, tipping his hat at her. Percy nods at him and closes the door.

“What did the sheriff say?”

“He needs to speak to us in the saloon. Something about the town’s security. This must be about what the slavers did to Doc Church while we were gone… Jesus what have I done?”

“Is the old man alive?”

“He is, thank God. But he’s not fine. Sheriff Simms said that it would be better if I see for myself.”

I nodded grimly. It must be bad.

“Let’s get ready. I need to pick up Dogmeat and get more winter clothes from Moira after that, too.”

Percy threw on a black shirt, then her Vault suit, followed by her jacket. She put on the cap she wore on the day I met her, grabbed her scarf on the way out, and I followed her out the house.

The tenseness came back to her shoulders. I squeezed her hand to reassure her, and she didn’t let it go.

The door to Gob’s Saloon swung open, and Dogmeat ran over to lick Percy’s face, Gob running after him. DeLoria was also there, with a few people from the Abolitionists, and Paladin Cross. Then, we were met by the townsfolk, whooping and cheering.

What the hell?

“I got you good!” Sheriff Simms exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Y'all really think we wouldn’t celebrate when a citizen of Megaton was responsible for bringing down Paradise Falls? The day you went through the gates, I knew I had a good feeling about you, girl!”

Percy’s standing stiff as a pole, eyes wide. “B-but Doc Church, and the slavers coming here and-”

“They can’t put me down that easily.” Doc Church’s voice. The old man comes into view, in crutches, one of his legs in bandages.

Percy gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. “God, Doc what have they done to your leg?”

“They mangled the hell out of my leg but the Sheriff managed to chase ‘em off before they could do anything else. Oh, don’t cry you big baby, I knew the risk when I decided to help you.”

The tenseness in Percy’s shoulders were replaced by shudders from her sobbing.

“I figured the town could use more vigilance ever since that Burke character turned up planning to blow us up. He might’ve ended up killing me if you weren’t a fast shot, too. Now, don’t you cry Percy, dear girl, you’ve done us some good again,” Simms reassures her, patting her back like a father comforting a child.

Nova comes over and pulls Percy to a corner, where she sits with Moira. Butch saunters over and before I can watch the awkwardness that followed, Simms walks over to me.

“And I suppose I owe you my thanks, too,” Simms said, extending his hand. “You’ve been a good friend to Percy. And any friend of hers is a friend of this town. Consider yourself a Megaton citizen too, Charon.”

I gave it a firm and quick shake. The sheriff didn’t recoil in disgust, and just tipped his hat afterwards.

“You kids have some fun. I can’t abandon my duties as sheriff, now.”

“Oh, c’mon Simms! Just one drink!” one of the patrons yell.

I can’t say that I feel overwhelmed by the crowd; I’ve been a bouncer in the Ninth Circle after all. I knew how rowdy people can get when they’re shitfaced. I’ve stopped brawls before. I’ve endured the obnoxious laughter and yelling.

But as I watched my partner surrounded by her friends and being celebrated by strangers from my corner, the gravity of our differences finally sank in.

Usually, when people see me, their first instinct is to stay clear, and regard me with fear or disgust. Sometimes both. When people see Percy, unless they’re raiders or slavers, they greet her, run to her for help, or check her out. Damn, I think that Bittercup kid from Big Town managed to do it all in that order.

Percy really is doing her best to do good. Half of the time, I don’t even know where she can find the motivation to stay that way in this shitsack of a world. Me? I’m just a broken old ghoul who had committed crimes that would send me straight to hell.

She told me that she’s just about to turn twenty the next month. Still so damn young to be shouldering this much responsibility, and yet here she was, organizing people to target slaver rings and doing her part in bringing clean water to the wasteland. On the other hand, I’m past two hundred, and I’m not sure how long I have before I become one of the mindless ferals.

My partner is burning bright, while my fire is slowly dying out.

The worst part is, I want her more than ever.

I shouldn’t be with her. She should be with pretty young smoothskins too.

Looks like I might have to turn her down, if she finally decides to stop waiting.

Percy has no future with me.

My train of thought was interrupted by Gob.

“Hey! Hey, everyone shut up for a moment. The news is on!”

He turned the radio’s volume up, and Three Dog’s voice flooded the room. Everyone went silent.

“ _News time, children!_

_Those scumbag Slavers way over in Paradise Falls had one big ole bee on their bonnet, and this baby knew how to sting. Gasp! But what's this? There’s not just one bee, but an entire goddamn colony, and their queen looked suspiciously like a certain kid, from a certain vault. You heard it here first, faithful listeners. The Wanderer showed up with a small army at slaver central and bad guys started dropping left and right. Reports say that among the people present are the Abolitionists Miss 101 herself assisted a few months back, a Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, and of course, her trusty Ghoul Reaper. And to top it all off, they gave us one hell of a pyrotechnics show when they fucking blew that place up to smithereens. Holy shit! Slavers of the Capital Wasteland, consider this the big ‘fuck you’ you've had coming since starting this scurrilous skin trade. What an amazing way to start the year!_

_What’s next? Is the Wasteland Avenger gonna give the Wasteland clean, fresh water too? Oh wait, she’s already working on that! Good job, kid! Just don’t burn yourself out, for chrissake. Keep fighting the Good Fight! The Wasteland is rootin’ for ya!_

_This is Galaxy News Radio and-_ ”

“Hey! They didn’t mention me!” DeLoria cuts in, and laughter breaks out.

“If he starts calling me ‘Queen Bee’, I’m knocking his door down and stealing his headwrap. I’ve got enough embarrassing epithets already,” Percy sighs, downing a shot of scotch. Then, she turns, eyes searching, and her eyes land on me.

“Big guy! C’mon, sit next to me,” she calls out, and I obliged. Gob slides me a beer.

“It’s on the house. Consider it as thanks for getting back at those scumbag slavers for us.”

I nod and down half the bottle in a gulp.

Yeah, damn it all, I’ll celebrate, why the fuck not.

“Oh, it’s great that I finally caught you two here in Megaton!” Moira exclaims, striding towards us with a box in her hands. Goddamn. And I thought I was going to have a good night. This is the weirdo that made Percy drink atom bomb water.

“Now, I know _you_ probably experienced it before,” she said, motioning to me after setting the box on the table. “But this is Percy’s first winter out here in the Wasteland! Here, as a show of my appreciation for getting rid of those mean slavers, I got you two some warm clothes!”

“Wow, it’s like you read my mind! Thank you so much for these, Moira.”

“No problem! Maybe we could work on a _winter_ survival guide next?”

Panicked, I shake my head and Percy laughs.

“I think I’m going to take a break from experiments for now, Moira.”

“Oh? What’re you up to?”

“We’re gonna bring clean water to the Wasteland.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you all had a great holiday. Back to regular programming!


	29. XXVII

January 13, 2278.

Goddamn, not another killer hangover.

This time, I feel like a _dozen_ brahmin trampled my skull. Never in my centuries of existence did I ever get this wasted. How did I even get home?

Opening my crusty eyes, I see the ceiling of Percy’s home, and looking down, I see Dogmeat lying on my chest, sleeping. I’ve been stripped out of my armor, wearing a clean shirt and pajamas that doesn’t reach my shins, and I feel clean. Damn, did Percy do that? I don’t mind, but I’m not a pretty sight to look at.

Sluggish as hell, I sit up, the dog waking up and giving my face a lick. I can smell something cooking, and damn, it smells good. My stomach grumbles, and I let out an awkward cough.

“Oh hey, Charon. You’re finally awake,” Percy calls out from the kitchenette.

Back turned against me, Percy was stirring something over the stove. I shuffled towards her, and pressed my cheek against the top of her head.

“Mornin’, angel.”

She gives me a soft chuckle. “It’s already the afternoon, big guy.”

Fuck. I slept for that long? “What happened last night?”

“I saw a mountain of a ghoul stumble around drunk in Gob’s Saloon, is what happened,” she replies, a lighthearted tone to her voice.

The events of last night came crashing back to me, and I buried my face in Percy’s hair in embarrassment.

I remember sitting next to Percy in the saloon, nursing my beer as she exchanged ideas with Moira. Half of what they’re talking about sounded out of this world. I can’t make any sense out of it, but it was nice hearing Percy’s voice. It’s good hearing her happy and enthusiastic again.

Then DeLoria’s goddamn voice breaks me out of my focus.

“Yeah? Yeah? I’d like to see you try, old man,” he blurts out from the other side of the bartop. What trouble has he gotten into now? Somehow, my instincts as a bouncer kicks in, and I stand up from my seat to look at what’s going on.

“You’re all bark and no bite, kid. Bet your ass would be on the floor before you can even finish a bottle,” said Jericho, the ex-raider.

Oh, a drinking contest. I thought I had a fight to de-escalate. Grumbling, I was going back to my seat, but DeLoria grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him.

“Well, I bet my buddy Charon and I can outdrink your crusty old ass.”

Boastful idiot. You just had to rope me in, huh?

“How much are you willing to bet, pretty boy?”

“Twenty-five caps,” DeLoria replies, setting it on the table. Laughing, Jericho set his money on the table too. “You’re on, asshole.”

“Hold on a minute, I don’t have caps,” I tell them. “I’m afraid I cannot participate in-”

Before I can even finish, the ex-raider flags Gob over. “Oy, Gob! We’re gonna have a drinking contest ‘ere, bring us more booze.”

Goddammit. I had considered taking a swing at DeLoria, but to my surprise, Percy saunters over with a grin.

“A drinking contest huh? I’ve never done one before. Have you ever tried playing, Charon?”

“No. Usually, I’d be the one to break it up when one party’s already slumped on the bar.”

My partner gives me a conspiring grin. “Well, _I’d_ like to try it. C’mon, big guy, let’s show these two how it’s done. We have caps to gain,” Percy replies, taking a seat next to me and tossing in fifty caps in the pile, covering my bet.

Gob set out four shot glasses in front of us, and people were starting to watch. If Percy is here, then I’ll make the most out of it. Maybe I’d end up carrying her tonight again.

Ten shots of vodka later, DeLoria washed out, stumbling off his seat and shaking his head. “Damn, I can’t do this anymore,” he blurts, running to the saloon door and shoving it open. He retches and the crowd bursts into laughter.

“Knew he'd wash out first,” Gob chuckles, refilling our glasses. Percy gently nudges me with her elbow, giggling.

“Hah! And the kid was the one to suggest the challenge too. Asshole,” Jericho mutters. “Just you, me, and the zombie, kid. Can you hold out better?”

“Call Charon a zombie again and I’ll fuck you up so bad, you’ll think getting attacked by a Deathclaw’s a back massage,” Percy slurs, eyes trained on the ex-raider. There was a hint of humor in her voice, but it was sharp; a guarantee that she’d follow through.

“ _Woooow_. The little Vaultie’s finally all grown up, learning to curse like a true waster. First time you showed up in this town you were a pampered baby girl,” Jericho snaps back, snickering.

“And this pampered baby girl just took down the Capital Wasteland’s biggest slaver ring. Don’t try me, gramps. It’s time for the next round.”

That shut him up.

Eleven shots. Twelve. Thirteen. On the fourteenth, Percy raises both arms and shakes her head. “I’m at my limit,” she groans, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“And our amateur abolitionist is out,” Gob announces, taking Percy’s glass away. She slumps towards the bartop, turns to me, and gives me a thumbs up.

“Give ‘em hell, big guy!”

I found myself grinning at her encouragement.

We counted all the way to twenty shots. At that point, Gob was scratching the little skin he had left on his head.

“You two are gonna drink me out of business. Let’s do a tie-breaker,” he suggests. He turns to the shelf, and produces a bottle with green liquor in it. I vaguely remember serving a contract holder who drank that in Vegas and it smelled like death. He pours it in our glasses.

What the hell, is that absinthe? Isn’t he supposed to light that shit up first or something?

“Whoever can take a shot without puking their guts out later wins,” he announces, sliding us the drinks.

Jericho caught a whiff of the alcohol and his face contorts. Staring at the glass, I once again find myself questioning what went wrong in my life for me to get to this point, but I was having fun.

Three, two, one. The ex-raider and I drank the last shot at the same time, and I slammed the glass against the counter. Now the waiting game starts.

By the time it kicked in, I was seeing double, and Jericho fell out of his seat.

“We have a winner! Charon takes home a hundred caps!”

Everything around me is a colorful, rowdy mess. Nudging my shoulder, Percy grins at me and clings onto my arm. The best I could, I gathered the money and slid it towards my partner.

She gives me a questioning look. “Hey, it’s your caps big guy! Spend it on whatever you like,” Percy tells me, beaming, face flushed from the booze.

“Just… just hold on to it for now. Hell, spend it on something nice. I mean it,” I slur, resting my chin atop her head. At that point, I knew there were people whispering and gossiping about our closeness, and Percy probably knows it too, but I just didn’t give a shit anymore. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she let out a soft grunt from the squeeze. My vision isn’t the best at that moment, but I swear I saw the red spread from her face to her neck.

“Okay. If you say so.”

The events after that were a blur. Vaguely, I remember DeLoria almost crawling back in and getting picked on by wasters before Hannibal Hamlin pulled him into a corner and chatting with him. Moira was deep in conversation with some random waster, and Gob poured himself and Nova a drink, joining the merriment. I’m not sure if my mind had made it up, but the radio was playing some old Pre-War torch song, and I was holding Percy by the waist, shuffling drunkenly and clumsily in a dim corner.

We had a conversation. I’m still trying to remember what it was about.

“How did we get home last night?” I asked her, delicately brushing down her hair that I ruffled when I leaned into her.

“Believe it or not, Butch and I dragged you back. He’s still asleep upstairs.”

Ah. Well, fuck. What a sight that must’ve been.

Looking over her shoulder, I see some kind of brahmin rib stew in the pot. Behind me, I can hear the patter of Dogmeat’s feet. The dog must’ve caught a whiff of that, too. On the unoccupied part of the stove, there was toasted bread slathered with brahmin butter. I’d never thought I’d be grateful to still have my sense of smell and taste. Even after all that binge drinking from last night, my dry mouth started to water.

“You said that I could spend your winnings on something nice,” Percy quips, shaking me out of the memory of the night before. “So, I made us a nice lunch. Get the bowls out for me, please?”

“How could you even cook while nursing a hangover?” I muttered as I fetched the bowls.

“Good old salt, sugar, and water,” said Percy as she ladled the stew. “Get these to the table and I’ll make some more for you.”

“Thanks, angel.”

I could practically picture Percy rolling her eyes at the nickname as she reached for the green pitcher at the top of the shelf, her laughter soft.

I set the food down on the coffee table, the broken television that once occupied it gone, salvaged for parts months ago. Meanwhile, my partner goes up the stairs to wake our guest up. DeLoria drags his feet, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Then, he sets his eyes on me. His hair is a goddamn mess, unlike the pomaded hairstyle he usually wears, and I couldn’t fight the urge to snicker.

“Oh. Hey. You were a bitch to carry back,” he mumbles, taking a bowl. He carves the meat out of the rib, slaps it on the bread, and eats. Percy joins us soon after, bringing a pitcher of the hangover cure.

I took a bite out of the food and fuck, this might be too luxurious for me.

“You should open a diner after you’re done kicking ass, Perce,” Butch comments offhandedly, using the bread to wipe the sauce off the bowl.

“I’d rather run a clinic, honestly.”

The two chattered idly, and Dogmeat was having his share of food as well, unseasoned scraps of meat and a bone to gnaw on. My focus shifts back to the two when Percy nudges me.

“What do you think, Charon? Should we bring Butch with us to Lamplight?”

“No. There’s no room on the bike.”

“Aw c’mon, you’ll draw attention to yourselves on that bike, plus you’ll need someone to watch your stuff from the kids.”

“Well, we _could_ use a pack mule,” Percy comments, and Butch flips her the bird. “Hey, you said you’d watch our stuff for us.”

“Yeah, _watch_ the stuff, not carry it or somethin’.”

Percy and Butch bickered for the rest of the afternoon as we prepared for our journey. Coupled with my hangover, the more I hear them chatter, the more annoyed I get. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t amusing.

DeLoria’s still an obnoxious asshole, and I’m still figuring out what I feel for Percy, but hearing Percy crack jokes and exchange jabs with her childhood friend brings me some reassurance that things will be fine.

Snow was heavier than ever. The clothes Moira gifted us came in handy as we started our trek to our destination. Aside from the odd raider and mole rats loitering about, we faced no real danger on the road, much to my relief. Aside from protecting Percy, I have to look after the dog and Butch too.

I’m not letting what happened in Anacostia repeat itself.

We travelled fairly fast, but it was too deep in the night to continue any further, making camp in an old power substation. As I cleared the fallen furniture and the debris, Butch unfurls the bedrolls, while Percy looted the place clean, starting with the first aid box, thorough as ever. We didn’t eat dinner. The meal we had this afternoon was more than enough to keep us from going hungry tonight.

Falling asleep swiftly, DeLoria’s back is turned to the wall, snoring. Percy lies in the middle, eyes closed, but I know she’s not asleep yet. I lie facing the door, keeping watch.

Fabric shifts next to me as Percy sits up. “Hey. We never got to finish the first book I was reading you.”

“Which one?”

“White Fang. The one with the wolfdog on the cover.”

Ah. She’s right. I fell asleep at the last chapter of the book as she read to me months ago, and we never picked it back up, moving on to another one.

“I have it with me in my pack. Do you want to finish it?”

“Gladly.”

Leaning against the wall, Percy reads as I nudged her clothed thigh with my head. Voice soft so she wouldn’t wake Butch up, she continued narrating what became of the wolfdog, the main character in the story.

After being ripped away from his mother and caring human, enduring Beauty Smith’s cruelty, and learning to trust his new human companions, White Fang finally lived. He lived an idyllic, carefree life, surrounded by puppies and sleeping under the sun.

In some ways, the wolfdog reminds me of myself. But unlike him, I didn’t have any masters to serve anymore, and got a partner instead.

Now, the only thing that’s missing is the happy ending.

But that doesn’t exist in real life, doesn’t it? Not in this shitsack world. So I’ll take any comfort that I can get, and right now, having Percy beside me is exactly that.

Fine. The dog too. And maybe Butch.

My eyelids growing heavy, I drifted asleep.

This time, the dreams didn’t have pain in it. Maybe it’s because of the book, or just plain stupid wishful thinking in my part, but I dreamt of Percy and I.

I dreamt of the world before it was ravaged by radiation, the waters of the ocean reflecting the blue sky above us. We’re on a beach in California, and a child collects seashells near the shore.

Just like I did when I was a child.

Beside me, Percy plops down a basket of food, hiding under the beach umbrella while I bask in the sun.

“Son! It’s time for lunch! Charon, will you fetch him, please?”

I smiled at my wife and shook the dust off me to get our boy. He laughs and shrieks as I carry him, seashells in his arms.

Looking down at the clear waters, I see myself. Thick red hair. Clear blue eyes.

Untarnished.

_If only._

  
  



	30. XXVIII

January 14, 2278.

I woke up feeling confused.

Percy?

My _wife_?

Impossible. A ghoul marrying a smoothskin? Fucking insane.

I don’t think I’m even made for something as… _normal_ as marriage. All my skills are geared towards killing and destroying. How can I even build a life with her?

Some people marry out of love, don’t they? My parents did, and they were happy together. When I was little, during their wedding anniversary, they’d leave me with someone else to look after me. Before she went away to study, Aunt Katya would do that for them. After she’s gone, it was whoever babysitter they can find.

They would always come home the next day with smiles on their faces.

When we started to become poorer, they’d spend the evening in the house, a lone candle illuminating the kitchen, and they’d dance to the radio in silence. My mother would look at my father with uncertain eyes, and he'd kiss the worries away.

“Annika, _solnyshko moya_ , we’re going to be fine.”

 _Solnyshko_. If I recall correctly, it’s a term of endearment in my parents’ language. I think it meant ‘little sun’.

I sighed and turned to Percy, still asleep, resting peacefully as the sunlight streamed from the windows and illuminated her face.

Is that something I want to do with Percy?

Hold her in my arms through thick and thin? Call her silly little things out of affection?

Is it love that drives me to dream of being her husband? Or is she just too involved in my life now for me to think of someone else?

Some people married out of convenience, after all. Like Aunt Katya.

I remember bringing the rings on her wedding day. She was already heavy with child, dressed in white. I couldn’t remember if it was in the year 2069 or 2070, but obviously, it was before I was taken away for indoctrination.

“ _Tetushka_ ,” I remember addressing her during the reception. “Who is he?”

“Artyom, this is Nathaniel. He’s the man I married, and he’s going to be your uncle. Don’t be shy, say hi.”

The man steps closer, and kneels. He had some stubble on his jaw, square and shapely, and his hair is cut neatly, like the soldiers I see on posters.

“So this is the nephew you were talking about, Kitty. Hey there sport,” he greets extending his hand. I remember reluctantly giving him a handshake.

“I know this is all so sudden, but he’s part of the family now,” Aunt Katya explains, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I think it’s time for the toast, dear. We wouldn’t want to miss it.” Nathan interrupts, whisking my aunt away and giving me a nod and a wink.

That night, as my father drove us home, he spoke to me.

“Artyom, could you make me a promise?”

“What kind of promise papa?”

“Promise me, when you grow up and if you decide to marry someone, make sure that you marry out of love, like I did with your mother. Don’t be like your aunt Katya.”

“I promise,” I tell him. “But what’s wrong with aunt Katya?”

“Ilya, I think we should save this conversation for another day. Our Artyom might be too young,” my mother tells father.

“Nonsense. It’s never too early to let him know. Artyom, your _tetushka_ married that man because she thought she couldn’t take care of a baby on her own. I’m not sure if she loves Nathan, and that’s what scares me. Your auntie is strong. But I’m not sure how she will handle a marriage with uncertain feelings. It could destroy her.”

I blinked a few times. It was too heavy for me to understand back then.

“I think what your father is trying to say, Artyom,” my mother adds, “Is when people marry and start a family, they usually live together under one roof, like your papa and I. When you marry someone and live under one roof with someone you do not love, life can become difficult.”

“I think I understand, mama.”

I do understand now.

My reminiscing got interrupted when Percy cracked one eye open, and reached for me.

“Hey. Good morning, big guy. You slept well?”

I nodded.

“Let’s get some breakfast.”

After waking Butch up, the three of us packed our sleeping bags and went outside to start a fire. The dawn is just breaking, the horizon hazy. I can’t remember being this up early. Our sleep schedule was borderline nocturnal.

As the Cram sizzled on the clean sheet of metal we used to cook on while travelling, Percy was heating some clean water over the fire as well. She used it to rehydrate the Instamash, and the rest went into a cup. My partner then takes out a small sachet, the label washed out, but I can still see what it was.

“Found this in a coat pocket from Moira’s gifts the other day,” she giggles. “Hot chocolate!”

My eyes widened. Damn, I haven’t seen one of those after the war. Is it even safe to consume?

“Man, I miss the food in the vault. Lemme have some,” DeLoria exclaims, excited.

Percy pours it in the cup and stirs it with a spoon. She takes a sip, passes it to Butch, who wrinkles his nose, then to me. Well, if we can still eat Cram after 200 years of it sitting on some shelf, I think I’ll be fine with this ancient hot chocolate.

It’s hot. Comforting. The flavor is a little rancid, but what else is new with these preserved Pre-War foods? It’s still somewhat sweet. The nostalgia I felt for the life I left behind grew. I look into the cup, the dark liquid swirling, reminding me of Percy’s eyes. Then, I pass it back to her.

“You were smiling in your sleep,” Percy quips, looking at me with eyes still heavy with sleep. “Dreamed of something nice?”

Despite the cold, I feel the warmth spreading through me. Of fucking course I just can’t tell her that I dreamed that I wasn’t a monster, and she is my wife, and we had a son who looked like her while we’re frolicking at a beach in California. I have to think of something else.

“I dreamed DeLoria fell down the stairs.”

Percy almost spat out her drink laughing. Butch gives me a dirty look. “Yeah, real funny, you bastard,” he groans.

I couldn’t help but laugh at my own lie, too.

Butch put the fire out with snow, and we’re off again, heading west. The sun’s rising in the east, warming our backs as we pressed on. By the time we got to Lamplight, the sun’s risen, but was blocked out by clouds.

We approached the cavern entrance, and followed the trail inside. There, MacCready is still keeping watch.

“Hey, we got your friends back. Can we come in now?” Percy shouts, keeping a safe distance.

“I guess you’re okay after all, for a mungo. But you better not piss me off!”

As the three of us approached the gate, the kid pointed his rifle at DeLoria.

“Hey wait a second, _you_ weren’t with them when they first came here,” he barks, suspicious.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless. He’s gonna watch out stuff for us while we go in Vault 87,” Percy explains, pulling Butch’s arm hurriedly.

“Who the fuck are you?” the mayor asks Butch, and of course the moron puffed his chest out.

“I’m Butch! I lead a gang called the Tunnel Snakes and I helped them get your friends outta Paradise Falls too!”

“What kind of dumbshit name is Tunnel Snakes?”

Okay, I can’t fucking help it. I am laughing. This kid is just fine.

As DeLoria squabbles with MacCready, Percy sits down in a corner to catch her breath and rest, and I join her. Soon, some of the kids started gathering around us, and among them were the children we rescued from Paradise.

“It’s the ghost and the zombie that saved us!” one of them exclaimed, running towards us.

“Zombie isn’t a nice word to call him, kid. He’s called a ghoul,” Percy tells her, voice a little softer than her usual speaking tone.

“A pretty ghost and a scary ghoul saved you? Wow!”

Soon, the voices of the children grew louder as they chattered about us, the odd group of mungos allowed in the cave.

I felt uncomfortable as the children poked around and asked us so many questions. Some of them are too afraid to come closer to me, while some openly try to climb on my back and gingerly touch some of my scars. I guess the dream I had about having one will remain a dream. These children are exhausting to be around.

Yet Percy takes it all in stride, answering every question they ask her, showing off her stuff, and regaling them with tales from our travels. She’d gently pet the hair of one of the little girls who huddled next to her, and her patience didn’t waver as one of the boys accidentally spilled their Nuka Cola on her jacket.

She reminds me of my own mother. I’m sure she’d be a great mother if she ever decides to be one.

And when that happens, I’m not going to be the one by her side.

“Percy! Tell us another story,” one of the children, who was called Knock Knock, asks my partner, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“I think I’ve already told you all of my stories.”

“Well, you can always make one up,” another little girl, the one called Bumble, suggests.

“Hmm…”

Eyes flicking towards me, Percy offers the children a soft smile.

“Long ago, there was a young maiden, living in a fortress with steel walls. The most important rule was one was allowed to go in and out of the fortress.” Percy starts, leaning her head towards me.

“A maiden? Why not a princess? Princesses lived in fortresses, right? Or was it a castle?”

“Shut up, Zip! Don’t interrupt her.”

Chuckling, Percy clears her throat and continues. “She kept to herself, and kept herself busy with plants and books. The maiden was content with living in the fortress, but she always wondered what the world beyond them looked like. One night, while the maiden was exploring the lower levels of the fortress, a horrible beast took her away, and captured her. He put her in an invisible cage, which keeps her under his control.”

I think I know who this maiden is.

“Oh no, is she okay? Who saved her?”

“We’ll get to that soon. The maiden was kept in a cage for so long, that she thought that she'd never get out. Then, one night, word got around that someone left the fortress. In her desire to see the world, she grips the bars of the invisible cage, and bends it, finally escaping.”

The children were listening in awe. “What happens to the girl? Does she escape the fortress?”

“Yes, and she had to face the monster that captured her in doing so. In a show of courage, she wields a sword, and takes his head off in one slice.”

“Coooool,” one of the kids exclaimed.

“Then, she starts looking for her father. But she couldn’t do it alone. There were many dangers in the world outside the fortress. So, she looks for someone who can watch her back.”

“Is it a knight? Or a prince?”

“Hmm. No, her companion is neither of those. He’s something else.”

“What is he?”

“A ferryman.”

“What’s a ferryman, Percy?”

“Have you kids ever heard of a boat? A ferryman is in charge of running that boat.”

“Oh, so they rode through a boat?”

“Yeah. They did. This ferryman, all he knew before he met the maiden was to take the souls of people and deliver them to Death. Kind of like the Grim Reaper. Everyone’s gotta die some time, and it was his job to ensure that they make it to the other side.”

“Yikes! Why would she ask someone like that to watch her back?”

Percy pauses, unsure what to answer. Her eyes flick to her lap, then, she smiles at one of the kids.

“Because, the maiden knows better than to judge a book by its cover. Turns out, the ferryman was one of the most reliable, bravest, and kindest people outside the fortress, but he’s stuck to his job. So, they burn the boat, and the maiden, instead of facing Death, runs away with the ferryman. The end.”

“Wow, that was boring,” one of the boys quipped, which earned him an elbow from one of the girls.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing!”

“Aw, that can’t be the end! What happens to them after?”

“Do they fall in love?”

A short chortle escaped Percy. “That’s a story for another day. My friend and I need to get going.”

Bumble looks up to Percy with big, begging eyes. “Promise us you’ll tell the rest when you come back, please?”

A chorus of “Please, Percy” fills the cave. I couldn’t help but snort at the overwhelmed look on Percy’s face. Then, she gave them a quick nod, to which they responded with cheers.

“Alright big guy, time for us to go into the Vault. Wait, where’s Butch?”

On the opposite side of the cave, surrounded by mostly boys, including MacCready himself, Butch was shouting and cheering.

“Tunnel Snakes rule!”

“Tunnel Snakes rule!” the boys echoed.

We laughed at the scene. “Hey, looks like Butch have new gang members in no time.”

Striding towards DeLoria, Percy dumps the gear we didn’t need to bring near his feet. She takes off her leather jacket and scarf, and her sneaking suit’s helmet protracted over her face. It was a curious sight for the children, looking at her with bewildered eyes.

“Look after the stuff, Butch. If we don’t come back in eight hours, get help from the Brotherhood.”

“Got it. Wait, but what if something else comes through the door?”

“If it’s not with us, shoot it. Help the kids defend this place.”

Butch gulps. “I… uh…”

“There are spare guns and grenades in one of the packs. You helped us with Paradise, Butch. You can handle this,” Percy encourages him, rubbing the back of his palm gently.

I look away.

“You’re right. See you in a few hours.”

Following a teenage boy who introduced himself as Joseph, who turned out to be the brother of one of the children we got out of the slave pen, we were led to a terminal which accesses a door to the vault. No one bothered to write down the password, so Percy cracked her knuckles and started typing away eagerly.

Eyes still fixated on the glowing green monitor, she had that determined look on her face again.

The door hisses open, and we step in. It was unnaturally cold and silent.

“This is it, Charon. We’re so close.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> solnyshko - literally "little sun"; sunshine
> 
> tetushka - aunt/auntie
> 
> Oh boy, here we go. Vault 87's about to rock the boat.


End file.
